


Smoke & Mirrors

by sincewewereeighteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Doctor Harry, Doctor Louis, Grey's Anatomy AU, Happy Ending, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Occasional fluff, Smut, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincewewereeighteen/pseuds/sincewewereeighteen
Summary: "What are we drinking then?” He asks Harry, claiming his place sitting on the stool by his side.“Tequila.” Harry replies.“Is this a good idea?”“Neither is sleeping with you, probably, but I’m going to do it anyways, so…” He hands Louis a glass. “Bottoms up!”Or: the one in which Harry hates Louis, but doesn't know him. And then... He does.Spanish Version





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missdisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdisaster/gifts).



> Hello, there! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> >> Please read the end notes, it's kind of important. <<

 

The pub is crowded. The pub is crowded, Peyton Sawyer was right, and Harry is an idiot who should’ve stayed home watching One Tree Hill instead of coming here. There are just  _ so. Many. People _ . And everyone is alone; no: everyone is lonely. Just like Peyton says people are in pubs and clubs – the people are wandering, looking for meaning behind the words that are coming from the stereo.

Harry definitely is one of those people right now.

There was just  _ something _ about tonight that made him leave his house, and it wasn’t the fact that he is alone in a new city on New Year’s Eve. It was more than that. Now, looking at his three shots of tequila lined up in front of him, Harry knows that it was his idiocy talking,  _ clearly _ . 

He’s regretting this immensely until he sees  _ him _ . Or he sees Harry, it doesn’t really matter. 

What matters is that he talks.

 

“Is this seat taken?” The man asks. Even in the crowded pub, with the music playing, Harry can tell that his voice is different – high-pitched and soft at the same time.

“Isn’t this pick-up line a bit old?” He answers with a smirk.

“Is it working on you?”  _ Ok, he’s good _ .

“Maybe.” Harry drags it out… “Yes.” He chuckles.

“Then I’ll keep using it on the cute boys that are bound to come after you.”

“Honest.” Harry observes, raising an eyebrow.

“Learned it the hard way.” Is all the other man gives him. “"

What are we drinking then?” He asks Harry, claiming his place sitting on the stool by his side.

“Tequila.” Harry replies.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Neither is sleeping with you, probably, but I’m going to do it anyways, so…” He hands Louis a glass. “Bottoms up!”

And they drink. 

They drink six shots each, but, surprisingly, Harry doesn’t feel too dizzy – not on tequila at least. The man in front of him, well, that’s another story.

He is completely captivating. His frame is smaller than Harry’s, but somehow he seems bigger, but not really intimidating. He seems tired, too, like he works his ass off every day and doesn’t get many breaks in between. The man talks- God, does he talk!

He doesn’t tell Harry much, but Harry doesn’t disclose things about himself either.

“I literally got here this week.” He lets it slide. “Came for a job, start tomorrow.”

“So you’re enjoying your last day of freedom…” The man says.

“Something like that.” He chuckles. “You’re not from here either, are you?”

“No. New York.” He offers. “Am here for a job, too, but it’s been three months, give or take.”

“And you haven’t managed to make friends to spend New Year’s Eve with?” Harry questions.

“Didn’t really have the time.”

“In three months?” He widens his eyes.

“You’d be surprised.” The man responds and then sighs. He drinks one more shot.

Harry takes this time to study his face for the first time tonight. And even in this dim light, when he meets this man’s gaze, he instantly feels drawn into his eyes. The icy blueness makes him feel like he is being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions, and Harry doesn’t really want to leave, not right now.

“Has anyone ever told you your eyes are really blue?” Harry asks, doesn’t realize he’s leaning closer.

“And  _ I’m _ the one with old pick-up lines…” He jokes. “Your eyes are very green as well, Curly.” The man smiles, it seems to be his first genuine smile of the night. And maybe it’s because they’re both very drunk, but Harry feels absolutely enamored. 

They only stop talking when they start kissing, and this happens at exactly midnight, as cliché as it is. Harry doesn’t hate clichés, no. He thinks that they  _ became _ clichés for a reason, and that reason is that they are awesome. So, they kiss at midnight. And the fireworks Harry sees and listens to have absolutely nothing to do with the ones exploding in the sky.

 

-

 

Harry wakes up with a killer headache. One of those that make you promise to  _ never _ drink again. The floor is cold, and it’s too damn early. It’s still raining, too, but when isn’t it raining in Seattle? Fuck.

There’s somebody by his side. A very naked somebody. He studies the man. Flashes from last night invade his mind, and suddenly he can vividly remember what it was like to feel the man’s hand on him – traveling down his body, unbuttoning his shirt and his trousers. He remembers the hair pulling, the gentle roughness the man handled him with and how no one had  _ ever _ managed to get him  _ just right _ that quickly.

Harry remembers his eyes through the thunderstorm. He remembers his disheveled fringe falling on his forehead and he remembers moaning into the man’s neck. He remembers giving him the exact hickey he’s staring at right now. And Harry wants to touch it, oh  _ my _ , he does.

He wants to wake him up kissing him again. He wants last night another time. But he can’t. He can’t because Harry Styles is  _ late _ .

“Fuck.” He complains and gets up. “ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, Wake up!” _ He shakes the stranger.

“Wha-what?”  _ His voice _ . Harry whines, because Jesus Christ, not fair! Very not fair!

“Wake up, I’m late, you need to leave,  _ bye _ ”, he says as he starts dressing up, pulling his hair up in a bun.

“Good morning to you too…” The man finally sits up on the bed they made out of comforters in the middle of Harry’s living room. Well, Harry’s mother’s living room. Whatever.

“Harry.” He offers.

“Harry. I’m Louis.” The man stretches out his hand. Harry had his  _ dick _ in his mouth last night, but he doesn’t say anything, just shakes it back.

“Nice to meet you”, he laughs.

“You too.”  _ Louis _ smiles back. 

“It’s my first day of work, you really need to leave.” Harry says.

“Yeah, right, okay.” He seems to snap out of it. “It was- uh.”

“A one-night stand, yes.” Harry completes for him, already walking him towards the door. Harry doesn’t tell him that it was the best  _ one night stand _ he’s ever had, probably one of the best sex he’s ever had. In the end, he just opens the door to his house and says: “happy new year.”

Louis seems startled, thrown off balance, but just for a second.

“Happy new year to you too.” He smiles. “I hope it’s a good one.” Louis’ voice is sincere; his eyes are glistening, just as blue and penetrating as yesterday. Still every bit unreadable. 

Harry allows himself a few seconds of softness.

“I wish you the same.” Harry gives him the same smile he is receiving. “Goodbye, Louis.”

“Good morning, Harry.” Is what he answers.

  
  
  
  


_ “For last year’s words belong to last year’s language, and next year’s words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.” _

_ \- T.S Eliot _

 

 


	2. A HARD DAY'S NIGHT

 

“I can see you're all here today with hopeful eyes. You seem eager to start. You all leave medical school wanting to be the next big shot, a shinning star or a prodigy.” James Corden, or, how he will be called from now on, _The Chief_ starts his speech.

Harry’s known him his entire life; he loves James. But he yawns anyways. He’s exhausted from last night’s activities.

“Little time ago you were babies who were learning from doctors, drowning in coursework and trying to do good in your exams. And here you are today... Babies who  _are_ actual doctors.” He tells them. Everyone looks excited, especially the blond guy by Harry’s side, who seems to be a ball of energy.

“The years you'll spend training here as surgical residents will be some of the best but also worst of your lives. Being an intern, and then a resident- it's... Hard.” James- _the chief_ takes a deep breath. “The people around you might become your best friends, husbands, wives... But they're also your biggest competition in this hospital. I’ve no idea of how many of you will last till the end, but trust me, this is more up to you than it is to me. Do your job and do it well, and you can stay. Give in go the pressure, and you’re out.”

He says it nonchalantly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to bust your ass to get into one of the most difficult surgical programs in the country just to quit or be fired in the end.

“Your trial starts now.” He looks at everyone, and then stares at Harry. His eyes widen.

James Corden is surprised to see him here. But _why_?

 

Harry doesn’t have time to talk to his mother’s old friend, he doesn’t even have time to get some coffee when he’s put into a group of five people and told to follow their resident: Liam Payne.

He gets his fellow intern’s names on the way to the nurse station.

“Niall Horan, from Houston”, the blond one voices smiling so much that Harry has to smile back. Maybe he’ll get some of his energy via osmosis until the end of this shift.

“I’m Harry, from Boston. Was living in New Hampshire for college, though.” He says.

“Oh, do we have a Dartmouth boy here?” A blond girl who looks like a freaking model mocks. “You rich kids, I swear.” She rolls her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Harry offers.

“Perrie Edwards, Florida. First time out of my State, in case you’re wondering.” Harry wasn’t, but he doesn’t tell her that.

The other two girls are called Jade and Jesy, and Harry isn’t sure from where any of them came, since they are interrupted by their resident. Their very hot resident, Harry might add.

“Alright, there are some things you need to know about working with me, and you’d better learn them fast.” Liam Payne says without any introduction. Not that it was needed. Would just be polite, Harry thinks. “I hate pushovers and I already dislike you. There’s a slight chance this will change, but not this year.” Liam tells his interns.

“Here’s your trauma protocol folder, phone list in case you need it, and your pagers.” He hands each one of them those items. “When nurses page you, you run to them, no matter what you’re doing.  _ Respect _ the nurses, they’re an incredibly important part of your job.” He points at them “Your first shift is about to start and, as you know, it’ll last 48 hours. Right now, you are  _ nobodies _ . Literally no one trusts you, so work your asses off to prove yourselves.” Liam keeps saying as he walks and they all follow.

The Jade/Jesy girl (Harry  _ will _ learn who is who as soon as he has some time!) keeps taking notes of everything and it’s getting under his skin. He can’t say anything, though, so he just walks.

“If you’re told to run labs, you run labs. If you’re told to write orders, you write the damn orders. You don’t ever complain, and you only stop if you’re dropping dead.” He points at them and then opens a door, letting everyone take a peek inside the small room. “This is the on-call room. You may think it’s yours, but attendings have priority. You are to sleep if you can, wherever is available.”

Liam closes the door.

“Now, if  _ I’m _ sleeping, which happens very rarely, you only wake me up if someone is  _ literally  _ dying, are we clear?” Their attending asks and they all nod. “Okay then.”

As if on cue, Liam’s page beeps and the chief resident starts running.

Needless to say, everyone runs after him.

  
  


 

-

 

Good news is: the patient isn’t dead when they take him out of the ambulance, because that would be very anticlimactic. Bad news is: he’s kind of stable, but in a bad condition. Liam thinks he’s already brain-dead, because of the swelling, but calls in a consult with his superior.

“Uh- you, Harry, was it?” He asks and Harry confirms with his head. “Go find a neuro consult, ask Doctor Tomlinson to come here ASAP. The rest of you—” Harry doesn’t stay to listen to the other orders, and walks as fast as he can without looking as a maniac as he tries to find Doctor Tomlinson.

It is a problem, the fact that he has no idea what the man looks like. But here’s the biggest problem of them all: Harry absolutely _hates_ that man – his name only brings him terrible memories and a desire to do bad things, like, for instance, punch him really hard in the face until he’s bleeding.

 

“D’you happen to know which one of them is Doctor Tomlinson?” Harry asks the nurse by his side. The middle-aged woman points and… _No_.

NO, NO, NO, NO.

 _Absofuckinglutely NO._ It can’t be.

Doctor Tomlinson… _Louis_ , the guy from last night, sees him at the exact moment Harry looks up, and as their eyes meet, Harry regrets everything he did, every little thing that led him to sleep with this man the night before, every small, ridiculous moment that brought him to this exact hospital.

 _Why_ does life have to do this to people?

Now is not the time to lose his shit, though. So Harry takes a deep breath and walks – one foot in front of the other, he can do this.

Louis _Tomlinson_ , Doctor Tomlinson, who Harry abhors, walks towards him too. They meet in the middle, and the man has a knowing smile on his face.

“Doctor Tomlinson.” Harry says and clears his throat. “We need a consult down in trauma three.” He lets him now as politely as he can get.

“Doctor Tomlinson? Don’t you think we’re past that?”

“ _ Doctor Tomlinson _ , I am trying to be a professional here.”

“So, let me get this: you sleep with your boss, then you throw him out on the street, and now you tell him you want to be a professional?” He smirks. 

“Ssssshhh!” Harry shushes him quickly. “Last night you weren’t my boss, and this morning I still had no idea of who you were. Now let’s go,  _ we need a consult down in trauma three…” _ He repeats and starts walking.

Louis grabs him by the arm near the elevator. Harry is already livid, about to have a heart attack. (Okay, maybe a  _ panic _ attack is more likely.)

“So what you’re saying is that I was only good for a shag?” Louis pretends to be hurt. “Do you tend to take advantage of everyone or only good looking man who are drunk and vulnerable?”

“I did  _ not _ take advantage of you. As far as I’m concerned, you wanted me just as much.”

“Alright. I guess  _ that’s _ something we can agree on. I wanted you. Still do.” He teases, raising his eyebrows. Does his man  _ not _ understand that Harry went from a hundred to  _ zero _ with him? 

Does he  _ not _ get that Harry wants absolutely nothing to do with him?

“Just shut up.” Harry responds weakly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to your superior like this.” He decides to use it against Harry. “Aren’t you a professional, after all?”

“One of us has to be.” Harry mumbles.

“Would you be interested in being unprofessional again this weekend?”

“NO! You’re an attending and I’m your intern. So stop insinuating things, and don’t you look at me like that!” He complains and the elevator door opens.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like you’ve slept with me.” Harry says and not so gently shoves the man into the elevator, walking the other direction and looking for a safe place to hide.

_ He can’t be Louis Tomlinson. He can’t be the man I slept with. He can’t be my boss. He can’t be the one who—no, he can’t. Oh my God.  _ He keeps thinking, and before he can get some water, get to a quiet spot or simply get his shit together, he’s being paged again.

Liam pages, Harry runs. His breakdown will have to wait.

  
  


-

 

In med school, they taught Harry to divide a 48-hour shift in four parts. You take 12 hours at a time, that’s how you survive.

Harry wasn’t expecting his first 12 hours to be this hard, though, which is why the first break he gets, instead of crying and cursing the universe for having put him in the same hospital as Louis Tomlinson, _the_ Louis Tomlinson, Harry follows his fellow interns to a darker corner of the hospital, where they all sit for the first time in what it feels like forever.

“Why didn’t I choose literally anything else?” Harry sighs in wonder, resting the back of his head on the wall. He’s already  _ so _ tired.

“We’re on the same boat there, mate. Maybe I should’ve tried to get in a boy band.” Niall says, making Harry chuckle. 

“My parents are always telling our family about how their daughter is a surgeon as if it were the most glamorous thing in the world. If they only knew.” Jade girl comments.

She’s the thinner one, lighter hair and hazel eyes. Jesy has darker hair, plumper lips. Harry can tell them apart now.

A patient threw up on Jade  _ twice _ today, and she wasn’t even on his case, just passing through the hallway.  _ Oh, the perks of being a doctor _ .

“My mom doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks I won’t make it.” Harry offers.

No one answers, yet everyone sends him a pitiful look. But then again, no one knows yet who Harry’s mother is. They know he is _Harry_ . They don’t know he is _Harry Styles_ , son of Des and Anne Styles, two of the most respected doctors in the whole freaking country.

Or, well, one. Since Des isn’t here anymore.

Anne’s always been hard on him, and she never, not once believed he would make it through Dartmouth without quitting; then, after he graduated, she never believed he’d get into _this_ program, the same one she did when she was his age.

His parents built an empire of sorts for their name. But Anne, specifically, was a pioneer in dozens of general surgeries in the US. Harry _knows_ he’s got some huge shoes to fill.

Right now he can’t think of any reason why he wants to be a surgeon, but as his pager beeps one more time letting him know that an ambulance is arriving, he starts to list a thousand reasons why he should quit.

They – the other doctors – are making it hard on purpose. There are _lives_ in their hands, Harry knows it. And there comes a moment when it’s more than just a game, and you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. Harry _could_ quit, but, here’s the thing: he loves the playing field.

 

Liam is furious when they all get to the pit, since it took them _forty seconds_ instead of thirty, which is what their resident deems acceptable.

Quickly, Liam sends Jade and Perrie to _orthopedics_ with another resident, someone Harry only gets a glimpse of and Jesy to do sutures. She looks pissed, but that’s what they’re here for.

“You two follow me.” He says and starts walking. When Harry looks at Niall, the blond guy is already three steps ahead of him.

They go up to the surgical floor and enter a brunette girl’s room. She looks about eighteen, and Harry’s suspicions are confirmed when he starts reading her chart.

“Lucy Halls, eighteen years old, admitted half an hour ago when she fell during a cheerleader routine.”

“This is terrible, I need to go back to school, the competition is in a couple of weeks and I cannot _miss it_.” She complains frustrated.

“Horan.” Liam calls his name completely ignoring the girl.

“I’ve already contacted her parents; they’re on their way here.”

“Meanwhile?” Liam asks.

“We run a few tests.” Harry offers.

Liam then makes both of them list all of the necessary ones.

“Great, get to it then, page me when you have results.” Their resident says and walks out of the room with a smile to the patient and not another word to either Harry or Niall.

They rush Lucy to get the MRI first, already knowing that the line for this one is freaking long, and when they’re finally done with all of them, they take her back to her room.

The girl doesn’t stop complaining, but thankfully her parents are already in the room when they go back, and it’s a bit easier to explain that they _can’t_ give them an answer _yet_ , because they’re still waiting for _results_.

“What do I do while I wait?”

“You could use some rest.” Harry tries to smile.

“I can’t sleep, my head feels full.” She answers frustrated.

“It’s called thinking. Go with it.” Niall tells her; the girl _and_ her parents look a bit offended. Harry tries his best not to laugh as he gives his work-mate a killer look before dragging him out of the room.

 

-

 

“Thirty hours, fuck.” Harry exhales as he sits down to eat something at the cafeteria. Everyone looks exhausted. “I don’t remember the last time I stayed awake this many hours.”

“Me neither. I feel like I could kill someone accidently if they let me work alone.” Jade whines resting her head on the table. “Maybe I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one minds when you kill an old person.” She comments.

“Surgery’s hot. It’s the marines. It’s macho. It’s hostile. It’s hardcore.” Niall responds. “Geriatrics is for freaks that live with their mothers and never have sex.”

“Fuck, I’ve got to get my own place, thanks for reminding me.” She says.

“I’m looking for housemates.” Harry voices, an actual smile appearing on his face for the first time in hours.

“What makes you think I’d wanna live with you?”

“I’m offended.”

“She’s saying that because you’re hot.” Perrie offers. “Like, really hot. And she’ll want to sleep with you. And it’s never a good idea to sleep with the people you live with.” She snorts.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, I can assure you that.” Harry laughs.

“Ouch.” Jade frowns.

“You’re gorgeous, Jade.” He tells her. “You just don’t have the right body parts, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Fuck, what?” Perrie laughs and spills her juice on the table. “Oh, Jesus. Why are the handsome and good ones always gay?”

“I’m not.” Niall tells her.

“Like I said: why are the _handsome_ and _good ones_ always gay?” She reinforces the adjectives and everyone laughs.

“Your words do not wound me, Perrie. I’m quite a catch, aren’t I, Hazz?”

Harry looks at him.

“I can say, in my professional opinion, that Niall Horan is a hunk.” He pats him on the back. Something tells Harry he and Niall are going to be great friends.

All the girls roll their eyes.

“So, you wanna live with me then?” He asks her.

“Yes, God, yes!” Jade’s pager beeps. “Fuck, I gotta go, Caroline already hates me too, much like Liam.”

“Think they hate everyone.” Niall mumbles.

“Who’s she?” Harry asks.

“Ortho resident.”

“Oh. Okay… We can sort details after, then?”

“Sure, sure.” And she’s running away.

“You said _house_ mates?” Perrie frowns.

“I live in a house.” He shrugs and eats a piece of his apple. “Still got one room left, anyone interested?”

“Got my own apartment already.” Niall says. “But I’ll be paying you visits.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“I already live with my fiancé.” Jesy tells them and everyone looks shocked.

 _How_ someone maintains a stable, healthy relationship through med school is beyond Harry’s understanding abilities.

“I don’t know if I’ll have money to pay my share of the rent.” Perrie answers.

“Money’s not a problem. I could use the company.” He offers.

“I’m not a charity case, Dartmouth.”

“Not saying you are, I just-”

“STYLES.” Someone calls his last name. Fuck, it’s James. “I’d like to see you in my office when you have some time, if that’s okay.”

“That’s okay, yes, sure, Ja- _Chief_.” Corden nods at everyone and walks away.

“Styles? Your last name is _Styles?_ As in Des and Anne Styles’s son?” Niall asks, Harry nods. “Fuck.”

“Not a big deal.” He tries to brush it off.

“NOT a big deal?” Jesy’s eyes widen. “It’s like you’re an heir to a fucking throne. You literally have everything to be—well. No wonder you’re here and everyone seems to like you.”

“That has nothing to do with-”

“Yeah, sure.” Perrie scoffs. “C’mon, we gotta go.” She gets up checking her page.

Niall is the only one who stays with him, but maybe because they’re on the same case together. He doesn’t give him a judgemental look, though. If anything, he looks a bit hurt that Harry didn’t tell him before.

 

They get the tests results and then they get Liam. It’s obvious that the girl has a tumor in her head – and Harry doesn’t even have time to feel sorry for her, since all he can think about is that Niall went to get Louis, and that he’ll see Louis again, and he’ll have to _work_ with Louis till the end of this shift, probably.

 

Everyone wants to scrub in, is the thing. Everyone wants that thrill of being picked out on the first day to go into the OR and feel important, somehow; feel like all of those years of pure hell in college were just so they could be by the side of an attending on their first day of their internship, because that would mean they succeeded.

Harry wants this feeling; Harry wants to scrub in, so he puts on a great face when Louis walks in the room holding Lucy’s scans, and he does his best to explain to both her and her parents that although it’s an invasive surgery (they’re going to cut into her _brain_ after all), it should go smoothly.

“But how does that work?” Her mother questions nervously.

“Believe me when I say the tumor isn’t located in the most difficult part of the brain.” Louis says calmly. “Now, every brain surgery is dangerous, of course. But this is one I’ve performed countless times and have a great success rate. Lucy’s young and I believe we will succeed.”

His voice is smooth, and he looks so sure of himself. Anyone would see it as confidence, but fuck if Harry doesn’t think Louis is cocky. All neurosurgeons are, after all. Alongside the cardiothoracic surgeons, they think they are more important than everyone else in the medical field.

Harry loathes people who act like that – which is why he never dealt well with his mother in the first place.

Louis makes Niall and Harry go through the procedure with the patient and their parents, and then tells Harry to book an OR and prepare to scrub in while Niall preps the patient.

“Where do I go afterwards then?” Niall asks him.

“I’m sure you can find something else to do. Like, find your resident.” He smiles. “Liam, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, fuck’s sake.” He sighs outside the patient’s room. “Doctor Tomlinson. _That_ I handle well. _Sir_ , not so much.”

“Roger that.” Niall smiles.

“See you in the OR, Harry.” Louis winks and walks away. Harry’s pissed.

“What _was_ that?” His soon-to-be friend looks at him.

“Nothing, he’s an asshole.”

“He’s amazing, mate.” Niall says. Of course the person he likes the most in the hospital already thinks the sun shines out of Louis Tomlinson’s ass. “I’ve been studying his stuff for a while now. The surgeries he’s performed, the papers he published… Doctor Tomlinson is a neuro god.”

“You’re telling me.” He scoffs.

“Wha- what’s wrong, Harry?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He brushes it off. “I’ll see if I can book the OR, you prep Lucy, all right?’

Niall sighs and agrees with him, and Harry goes on with his day.

 

-

 

“That was extraordinary.” Harry admits when the surgery is finally over.

“Normal people don’t say that.” Louis muses.

“What do normal people say?”

“Piss off.” His attending replies with a small smile. “You didn’t even shake in there, Harry. For a first time in the OR you did good, too.”

“Thanks, Doctor Tomlinson.”

“ _You_ can call me Louis when no one is watching.” He says lowly, drying his hands.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re my boss, it’d be unethical.”

“I was also inside of you yesterday. I’d say we’re closer than I am with the other interns.” Louis winks again.

 _God_ , how can Harry hate him so much – hate who he is and what he did in the past –, but still be extremely attracted to him?

“Yesterday I didn’t know who you were.” Harry tells him. “Not at all.” He then says under his breath. “And you—you still don’t know who _I_ am.” With that, he walks away.

 

-

 

It’s in the last twelve hours that they lose their first patient. Or, well, Liam loses a patient, but it feels like a loss for all of them. Harry’s knackered, they all are. Liam doesn’t look any of them in the eye when he says they can all go home, he’ll see them for the next shift.

They don’t move for a while, their legs don’t seem to be able to obey their brains. Then, one by one, they head to the showers and change into normal clothes.

Perrie agreed to go home with Harry and Jade to check out the place, and they all head to the elevator together. Then Harry sees Louis coming towards him, wearing normal clothes, hair damp and _fuck_ , he can’t stay here. Harry _hates_ him.

Louis enters the elevator and Harry leaves it.

“Harry-what—”

“I’ll see you downstairs.” He waves at the girls and starts running towards the stairs.

 

It’s been a tiring shift and Harry held his own. Fuck, he did. He hasn’t cried for two whole days – he hasn’t even had the _time_ to cry, and when he finally gets to the stairs, he feels like he can breathe again.

Until a hand closes around his arm.

“What is wrong with you?” Louis asks, voice low. “I get it that you didn’t expect me to be your boss, I didn’t expect you to be my intern either.” He tells him. “And this is all kinds of wrong, but damn, Harry—I… I want—” Louis gets closer, fuck.

He’s there, about to kiss Harry, but- _Harry can’t_.

“It’s not just that, okay?” Harry puts both hands on his chest. “You’ve got a great face and a good cock, Louis, but you’re Louis _Tomlinson_. And I—I’ve been hating you for the past seven years of my life.”

“What?” Louis frowns, a bit taken aback. He even takes a step back.

“Yeah.” Harry laughs out of nervousness. “I couldn’t believe when I found out you were you and that you were my boss, because I—if _never_ were when I met you personally I’d be happy.”

“Harry.”

“You ruined my life, Louis. I hate you so, so much that I-”

Harry rests back against the wall and breathes in deep so as not to let a tear escape. He fails and quickly brings both hands to his eyes, he doesn’t want Louis to see him like this.

Harry never lets anyone see him like this.

“What did I _do_?” Louis asks exasperatedly.

“Ask me who I am.”

“Wha-” The attending frowns, but then, defeated, he asks: “who are you?”

“I’m Harry _Styles_ , Louis.” He finally tells him.

“As in—”

“Anne and Des Styles’ son, yes.” He sighs. “And you, Doctor Tomlinson…” Harry laughs without any humor. “You killed my father.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more we move forward, the less it resembles Grey's Anatomy and the more those characters claim their own personalities. It just seemed nice to start out like this (in a very self indulgent way haha).
> 
> All the love <3


	3. THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST

 

Harry wakes up to the sound of people talking. It’s unusual, since the last time Harry had a full house he was still in grad school– so he’s used to the silence. Well, now, not anymore. It’s the very second day that he has new housemates, Jade and Perrie, and he already misses having his own space.

_ This is gonna be good, you need people _ , he tries to convince himself while he sits up on the bed. Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to be at the hospital until noon, but Jesus would he rather just stay in bed through this whole weekend.

 

“Good morning, Hazza, made pancakes!” Jade says and hands him a plate as soon as he enters the kitchen.

“Thanks”, he accepts it. “Morning.” 

“I can’t believe it’s our first morning together!” She exclaims excitedly. 

“Need to finish washing this before we get to the hospital…” Comes in Perrie’s voice, a bunch of laundry in her arms. “G’Morning, Harry.”

Harry smiles and nods, having his mouth full, and then he sees his bedding, the ones he used with Louis to sleep on the floor a few days ago.

“We’re burning these.” He gets up from the stool and takes everything off her hands.

“Why?” She frowns.

“No reason. Just—ok, don’t  _ burn _ , but give it to charit y, I don’t want it.”

“It’s new and it’s perfect, Harry.” The girl argues.

“Just get it out of my eyesight, will ya?” Harry snaps.

“ _ Fine _ .” Perrie rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

“You okay?” Jade questions.

“Just don’t wanna talk about it.” He dismisses her. “’M gonna shower.” Harry gets up and doesn’t eat the rest of his pancakes; he’s suddenly lost his appetite.

 

-

 

He was seventeen when his father died. Des was one of the most respected cardiothoracic surgeons in the United States, and had met Harry’s mom when they were still in college. They got together many years later, when both of them were already on their way to being hot-shot surgeons. Harry was an accident, and Anne made sure he knew it from the beginning, always yelling at him and telling him what a waste of her time he was.

Not Des, though. While his mom left in the middle of the night because of a patient, his dad made sure to step down from surgery and just stay at the clinic so he’d have time to spend with Harry. While Anne went on and on about being a doctor, Des taught him everything there was to know about the world, about being  _ human _ .

If you wonder why Harry’s so fucked up right now, and you’ll see just how fucked up he is, he’s giving you a reason beforehand: the one person who really cared about him in the world died when he was still a teenager. And he was never the same after that.

But see, he managed. He got himself into med-school, he  _ promised _ himself he’d use medicine to do  _ good _ and he got into one of the most competitive programs in the country without using his family name. Harry couldn’t, for the life of him, have known that the man who made a terrible call seven years ago would end up being one of his bosses. Worse than that: he couldn’t have known  _ who _ he was or  _ what _ he did when he slept with him.

Anyways... He knows he only has himself to blame.

 

-

 

Harry gets in half an hour earlier to talk with the chief. Maybe he postponed it a bit, but oh well. James understands.

“How are you doing, Harry?” The man asks.

“I’m doing fine, Sir, how are you?”

“I am good, thanks. The wife was amazed when I told her you wound up here.” He smiles.

“Send her my best.” Harry answers.

“Now, Harry, I understand this can’t be easy for you, with Louis working here too and everything.”

“No, Sir, it isn’t. And believe me when I tell you I had no idea this man worked here or else I would’ve stayed away.” He promises him.

Corden sighs and rests his back on the chair.

“This  _ man _ , that you talk about with such despise in your voice, is a rock star in his field. Every physician makes mistakes, Harry.”

“I know that.”

“Your father was also a rock star in his field, and he also made mistakes, but the most beautiful thing about him was that he was so, so kind.”

“With all due respect, Sir, if you called me here to talk about my personal life I would rather go back to work.”

James eyes Harry for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Unfortunately, Doctor Styles, your personal and work life are mingled in this hospital. In every corner of it, and not just because Louis Tomlinson works here. Your mom used to work here, too. And I’ve known you before you were even born.” Harry simply nods. “I don’t want you to like Doctor Tomlinson or be friends with him, but you need to promise me you can handle this as a professional relationship. Louis is a great teacher and a great person, and he’s got a lot to teach all of you.”

Harry nods again.

“Am I going to have a problem with you and Tomlinson?”

“No, Sir.” He chokes out.

“Good. You can see yourself out. See you on the surgical floor.”

 

So Harry exits the room and gets ready for another tiring day. At least now his shift only lasts 24 hours; God knows he would die if he had to always pull 48-hour shifts like the first ones. According to Liam, they do it to test the interns on their first day, but it very rarely happens again.

Harry likes Liam when he starts to get to know him. Sure, he is by far one of the most demanding people Harry has ever met, but he’s also a kick-ass resident, he finds out.

In the next few days, Harry ends up meeting everyone there is to meet. If Louis is the “neuro-god”, Zayn Malik is the “cardio-god”: a surgeon who is great, focused, and handsome. More than once Harry wonders if everyone needs to be so freaking hot at this hospital, because  _ honestly _ .

 

The first time Harry works with Zayn is when Liam has his hands inside of a patient’s chest down in trauma and he has to run to get the doctor. It seems like they’re always running. The first time Harry works with Zayn, he also learns three things: 1) he is kinda cocky, but charming 2) he has a huge crush on Liam that Liam is unaware of (and vice-versa), 3) he doesn’t like Louis much.  _ Something in common there _ .

But then again, maybe he just doesn’t want to share his title as as the  _ best doctor in the hospital _ . Insert an eyeroll here.

“How do you wanna proceed, Doctor?” A nurse asks as she enters the room with Zayn.

"Give me one second, I'm still catching up with my brain, it's terribly fast." Is what he answers.

A few minutes later, everything’s under control and Harry’s starting to prepare the patient for surgery.

 

“Doctor Malik, can I scrub in?” Liam asks. 

“You’re suddenly interested in cardio, Payne?” Zayn smirks as Harry hands him gauze.

“I just—I literally had my hand inside this man’s chest, I feel like I should see his case through.” Harry’s resident explains.

Zayn takes one second to reply, but, in the meantime, the patient starts coding. They run the code as fast as they can, Harry watches everything with wide eyes and steady hands (at least he thinks so), and helps by pushing a dose of epi.

God, it’s such a rush.

“We’re going.  _ Now _ .” Doctor Malik orders as soon as he listens to the patient’s heart, once stabilized.

Harry runs after them like crazy, being the only one on Liam’s service today, and he prepares himself to scrub in, leaving all his other problems behind.

“You’re Harry Styles, right?” Zayn starts the small talk. The patient’s under anesthesia, Liam’s holding a retractor, Zayn is holding a scalpel,  _ and the attending starts small talk _ .

“Yes, Sir.” He replies, eyes glued to the patient’s heart and the way Zayn’s hands move so easily around it, like it’s no big deal.

“I’ve worked with your mother,” Zayn tells him. Liam didn’t seem to know that, because his eyes widen. “Was her resident for two years before I decided to come to Seattle. Brilliant, brilliant woman.”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask why you stopped working there, Sir?” Liam questions. “I mean- people would do many things to work with Doctor Anne Styles.”

Harry does his best not to roll his eyes.

“My father got sick, I had to come back home, he was my only family.  _ Damn it _ , suction!” He asks and Harry’s right there.  _ Oh my God _ , he’s right there! The bleeding stops, Zayn continues. “He died three months after I came here, but it just felt wrong to leave. I quite like Seattle now, Liam.” Doctor Malik looks up and smiles. Even through his surgical mask, it’s still visible that he smiles.  _ At Liam _ . Harry’s resident melts. “Anyways… You’ve got some big shoes to fill, Mr. Styles.”

“I know.” He answers.

“Does any specialty catch your eye?”

_ Neuro _ . No. Nope. No.

“I think it’s still too soon to decide, isn’t it? It’s still my first week.”

“True, true.” Zayn muses. “If you ever choose cardio, like your father, feel free to find a mentor in me.”

Getting to experience Zayn Malik performing a successful surgery is something that will never leave Harry’s mind. He learns so much within the six hours he stands on his two feet with no water and no bathroom break that when he walks out with both his resident and his attending, he feels like he can fly, even though his body’s screaming for him to lie down.

 

-

 

Two and a half weeks into the program and Harry feels like he’s going to explode, because Louis is  _ everywhere _ . Yes, they work on the same floors, this was bound to happen, but fuck if Harry was expecting to see him this much.

Up until now, his favorite people are Niall and Zayn, with whom Harry’s been lucky to work with two more times since the first surgery. And Niall is just- he’s the best, really. This bright star shines inside of Harry’s chest whenever he looks at his friend, knowing that he picked a good one.

Niall is trustworthy. Which is why on this unbearable day, Harry chooses to confide in him. Later, though.

 

“Gunshot to the head, bullet is lodged here.” Liam shows Louis on the X-ray. All the interns are in the room, the patient is partially stable. Harry thinks he is  _ great _ for someone with a bullet in his head. “Who wants to present?”

Everyone raises their hand and eventually Perrie gets to speak. She tells Louis all about his tests and Louis thanks her with a small smile, walking towards the patient’s bed.

“Mr. Cowell, is it?” Doctor Tomlinson asks.

“Yes.”

“Ok, follow the flashlight, please.” The man does it without a problem. “Thanks. Now, squeeze my fingers as hard as you can.” Once again, Mr. Cowell does it.

Louis looks at his chart one more time and then to the interns. His eyes linger on Harry for a fraction of a second, before he turns to Liam.

“Have any of you contacted the police yet?”

“No, Sir. There- there was no need.” Payne explains. “Mr. Cowell, he—uh, he claims to have attempted suicide.”

“Is that right?” Louis looks at Mr. Cowell. “By the way, Doctor Payne, you should know by now that every gunshot wound has to be reported whether it was self inflicted or not.” He eyes his subordinate. Liam simply nods, so Louis turns back to the patient, awaiting the explanation he knows is coming.

“I lost my company—all my money—there was no reason for me to keep living, so I decided to take my own life.” He tries to explain.

“Taking your own life...” Louis trails. “Interesting expression. Taking it from  _ who _ ?” He asks. No one dares to say a thing. “Once it’s over, it’s not you who’ll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own.” He says angrily. “Keep your hands off it.” 

Then, Louis looks at the other doctors again.

“Go see if you can find an OR, we’re operating.” As he walks out of the room, everyone follows him. “Can I have Horan, Dr. Payne?”

“Sure.” Liam says. “Anything else, Sir?”

“No, that’s okay. You can scrub in if you’re not too busy kissing Malik’s ass.” Louis winks and walks away. 

 

"Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." Liam sighs. 

As the other interns struggle not to chuckle, Harry struggles not to murder Louis right then.

 

-

 

“And it was brilliant, mate! The most brilliant thing I have ever seen!” Niall talks Harry’s ear off while Harry does his best to listen. 

“You’ve said it a hundred times already, Louis is brilliant, I’m so happy for you,  _ so _ happy I’m Mary Freaking Poppins.” Styles rolls his eyes and closes his locker.

“One: rude. Two:  _ Louis _ ?” 

“Doctor Tomlinson’s name is Louis.” Harry answers defensively.

“I know his name is Louis, what I didn’t know is that you were on a first name basis with our attending.”

“Well, I kissed him. I guess we’re a bit more intimate than being on a first name basis.”

“YOU KISSED LOUIS?” 

“Keep it down, will you?” Harry puts a hand on his mouth and Niall’s wide-eyes blink once. “Good boy.” He says.

They both sit in the locker room which is already cleared out.

“I kissed him in the bar.”

“Why’d you kiss him in the bar?” 

“I was having a bad day.”

“This is what you do on your bad days, make out with Doctor Louis Neuro-God Tomlinson?”

“I also slept with him.” He shrugs.

“Harry!”

“I didn’t know he was him,  _ okay _ ? In fact, I didn’t know  _ anything _ . I didn’t know he was my boss, I didn’t know he killed my father, I didn’t—I didn’t  _ know _ who he was.”

“He killed your father?” Jesus, Niall looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.

“New Year’s eve, I went to a bar.” Harry starts from the beginning. “I was lonely and drunk, and this hotter than hot man appears by my side with those fucking eyes and his fucking hair and just—smart mouth, swear.”

Harry’s irritated with himself. He is very, very angry with the fact that the simple mention of that night makes his body shiver, his mind wander, his heart race. 

“He was lonely, too, I think. It was a one-night stand, threw him out the next morning cause I needed to come here and  _ ta-da _ . Here he was.” He fake-smiles.

“But mate—what do you mean he killed your father?”

“Medical malpractice.” Harry explains. He is not going to cry. Nope. He  _ won’t _ .

“Fuck.” Niall sits by his side, rests one hand on his shoulder.

“I never knew his face, you know? My mom was at the hospital, I was at school. I just heard the name. I’ve been hating him for seven years, Niall. And it’s very hard to think that he’s a fucking  _ god _ right now when he- when he was the one that—shit.”

Harry’s definitely crying. He is so angry with himself for it. Damn it.  _ Stop crying, you baby _ , his mother’s voice comes to mind.  _ Medicine lost him too. Medicine needed him more than you do _ . Anne’s screaming in his head now, and it’s insistent. 

Harry can’t help but hurt. Seven years wasn’t long enough for him to grieve. He doesn’t think seventy will be. He wipes his eyes clean anyways.

“Does he know?” Niall asks. “I mean- of course he does, but—wow, mate, that- that can’t be easy for him either.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Harry voices truthfully. 

“Have you talked to him?”

“No. He’s been like- trying, to get me alone to talk, but I just—I can barely look at him during work.”

“You need to talk to him, dude.” Niall tells him. “I know this is the last thing you wanna hear, but—luckily you’ll be working with him for a long time, so…”

“I know.” Harry sighs. “I freaking know.”

 

Tonight Harry drinks. He meets the girls at the bar and Niall goes with him, and he drinks himself into oblivion. He is carried home at eleven p.m., too early, but he doesn’t even care, because he’s  _ happy _ . He’s tired, he’s happy, and he’s turning twenty-four in an hour. Life’s good now that he’s inebriated.

“Who here has no idea of what they’re doing?” He asks laughing when he’s thrown on his bed.

Perrie and Jade raise their hands, Niall pulls a cover up to his shoulders and then lies by his side.

Harry closes his eyes before the clock reaches midnight.

 

The next day he’s brand new. The thing about having a dead parent when you’re a teenager is that it gives you an excuse for everything, including becoming a part-time alcoholic, so hangovers are something that Harry’s completely used to having; he deals well with them.

 

-

“There’s alcohol coming out of your pores, what the fuck were you up to last night?” Doctor Payne asks when he and Niall get to the hospital. The girls aren’t working today. Lucky them.

“Drank. Today’s my birthday.” Harry says.

“Go start yourselves on an IV bag until you’re absolutely clean. I want blood tests in my hands in two hours. You’re compensating this time tonight and I don’t care if you have a party planned.” He tells Harry, specifically.

“Not even if we invite you?” Niall tries.

“Not even if we invite you  _ and _ Doctor Malik?” Harry’s crossing a very dangerous line here, especially because he would never invite an attending to his party anyways, but he likes playing with people, taking them to the edge of their anger, even people who could end his career. 

Maybe he’s a tiny bit self-destructive. But with his life history, who could really blame him?

“You are to leave this hospital at ten p.m., not eight.” Liam responds. “And I’ll bring vodka.” He says.

“We prefer tequila.” Niall says.

“I didn’t ask what you prefer.” Their resident smiles and walks away.

 

-

 

Two hours and a clean blood test later and Harry’s working with Caroline Flack, the ortho resident. Then, in the afternoon, Louis uses his attending powers to pull him aside and tell him he’s on his service. Harry  _ likes _ Caroline. He doesn’t whine, though.

“Harry, when are we going to talk about everything?” Louis sighs tiredly, walking with him towards the patient’s room.

“When I feel like it.”

“You can’t keep running away from me.” 

Harry wants to say  _ watch me _ , but instead:

“I know.” He agrees without looking him in the eyes. “When I feel like it.”

“Will you ever?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs. 

They come to a halt in front of room 2231, and before Harry can ask who the patient is and what they are doing here, Louis simply smiles and says  _ we are clipping an aneurysm today, happy birthday, Harry _ . He opens the door.

The patient is a twenty-two year old Caucasian man who found out he had this aneurysm two weeks ago when he was taking his last tests before he was ready to be deployed again. He’s an army man, a soldier, and his father was too, Harry learns. His father sits by his side the entire time Louis and Harry talk them through the surgery.

Harry’s mind wanders a bit when Louis starts to reassure them that although this is dangerous and many neurologists advise to simply live with it until one day it explodes (Harry  _ hates _ those kinds of neurologists, by the way, and apparently so does Louis), he thinks the best option  _ is _ to take the risk. 

From their group, only Jesy got to watch Louis clip an aneurysm. It’s still their first month after all, and here is Louis  _ giving _ Harry a surgery for his  _ birthday _ . Inviting him not only to watch but also to assist – not that Louis Tomlinson really  _ needs  _ assistance.

Louis wouldn’t do it for anyone else and Harry knows it, and that alone makes it unethical. The fact that they slept together ten-folds the situation; the fact that Harry hates him and Louis seems to be set on changing his mind is… Harry doesn’t even know. 

What he knows is that this isn’t exactly  _ right _ , and that the chief would have an aneurysm himself if he knew about it. He is pulled out of his thoughts when the patient asks to the door:

“What are you doing here?” 

Everyone looks back. A blue-eyed man around the same age is there.

“I thought you’d like a friend here with you, son.” His father smiled.

“You’re supposed to be with our unit already!” Rick, the patient, says exasperatedly.

“They gave me two more days to see your surgery through.” He smiles. “Sir!” The man, who is dressed as a soldier, salutes the patient’s father.

“Well, Harry will work on your pre-op and I’ll see you in the OR in a bit.” Louis speaks up then. 

“Please, don’t kill him?”

“Derek.” Rick calls.

“We’ll do our best.” Louis smiles at Derek and gives Harry  _ the look and the nod _ before walking out. ( _ The look and the nod _ mean: get him ready and page me when it’s time.) 

Mr. Patel, Rick’s father says he’s going down to the cafeteria while Harry works on his pre-op and he’ll be back soon to see his son off. Derek’s instantly by his bed when the door is closed, and Harry pretends he doesn’t pay attention to the way Derek holds Rick’s hand when he’s organizing a few syringes in a drawer.

“ _ Are you crazy? What are you doing here? _ ”

“I couldn’t leave you, okay?” Derek replies. “I just—I couldn’t.” His voice is weak, almost like he’s crying.

“My father, the army, we—”

“It’s 2017, Rick.”

“You don’t know my father, okay?” He raises his tone and Harry turns around, looking at him. “And we don’t need doctors judging us either.” Rick spats.

“Rick…” Derek calls his name, taking his hand towards his mouth to kiss.

Rick pulls it quickly, because Harry is looking.

“Not that I need to tell either of you,” Harry starts, “but I’m gay too. And even if I weren’t, I am not an asshole. You love who you love, right?” He smiles. “If you’d like, I could watch the door so you can have some time with your boyfriend before surgery, Rick.”

The patient blinks twice, slowly.

“Thank you, Doctor Styles.” He whispers, and before Harry’s out the door, they’re kissing.

 

-

 

The surgery is a success and Harry  _ feels _ successful because he got to be a part of it. It’s amazing, really, to be able to look inside someone else’s brain. Of course he is amazed by everything – looking at a heart, for example, was magnificent too, he can’t deny that.

There is just something about the brain that captivates Harry in a way he can’t quite explain. Scientists say that humans only use 10% of it. We all only have access to this minor portion of this powerful thing and Harry literally spends the last hours of his shift, on his birthday, on his first  _ month _ as an intern, looking inside a man’s brain. 

Once the surgery’s over and they talk to the family, both Derek and Mr. Patel hug him and Louis, and Harry smiles big. He is just so, so happy that all he wants to do is call his mother and tell her the amazing thing he did today. But then it hits him, if she wanted to speak with him, she would’ve called.

So now, he’s leaving the hospital, but he is sulking, because even though he had this amazing day and did this amazing thing, there isn’t really anyone important, anyone who would  _ care, _ if Harry told them.

 

“I gave you a surgery for a present and you’re still not happy?” Louis asks him.

It seems like he’s everywhere Harry is. No matter where he goes, Louis is there. Right now they are both on the bench in front of the hospital.

“Believe it or not the world doesn’t revolve around surgeries.” The intern snorts.

“You’re not going to become a very good surgeon thinking like that.” Doctor Tomlinson offers him a piece of his mind.

And oh, isn’t that funny?

“You sound just like my mother.” Harry plasters a smile on his face. So fake.

“She didn’t call you, did she?” The other man sighs and looks at him. Harry doesn’t dare look back. Of all the things in the world, he doesn’t need to be  _ vulnerable _ in front of Louis. “C’mon, I hear you have a party waiting for you at home. I’ll give you a ride.” Louis offers.

“I don’t need it, thanks.”

“It’s freezing cold, Harry. It’s past ten p.m., you worked your ass off today. Just—just let me do this, yeah?”

Harry agrees, because he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Plus, a ride sounds good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can already imagine what's going to happen inside that car, can't you? ;)  
> See you next week.


	4. WINNING A BATTLE, LOSING THE WAR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went out yesterday and completely forgot to post. Sorry I'm late.  
> Here you go. xx

 

 

Harry is going to kill his friends. Seriously, he will.

As soon as Louis stops in front of his house, after Harry’s grumpy directions, he notices that, instead of the small get together the girls promised him, the whole surgical floor that  _ isn’t _ working at the hospital at the moment is right here. Harry can hear the music blasting from inside his living room and he can see people dancing like their lives are about to end and  _ fuck _ he’s so tired.

He’s been working for twelve hours now, spent some of those on his feet watching Louis perform surgery, and now Louis is  _ here _ and it’s all just so emotionally draining he can’t even begin to explain.

Somehow, Louis senses it. Harry knows he does because even though they have arrived, his attending turns off the engine and doesn’t unlock the door on Harry’s side.

“It’s okay if you want to hide some more.” Louis eventually says when the silence gets too much.

“Being with you isn’t hiding anyways,” Harry shrugs. 

“I can get out, leave you alone.” He offers.

“No.” It comes out too quickly. Harry doesn’t even know why he says it, but he does, and after that it’s just… Heavy. 

Louis snaps his head to look at Harry and there’s a question in his eyes; a question Harry doesn’t really know the answer to, but risks it anyways. He leans over the console of the car and catches Louis mouth, and it’s not unsure, as much as it should be. It’s harsh and fast and he bites Louis’ bottom lip before pulling back, connecting their foreheads.

Louis’ breath is not even labored, because despite a bit crazy, the kiss was fast. Still, Harry’s panting. 

“Make me forget.” He whispers. “Just please make me forget, Louis.” 

He doesn’t have to explain. He doesn’t need to tell the other man that he wants to forget he’s turning twenty-five and has no idea of what he’s doing with his life; that it’s his birthday and his own mother didn’t call because she doesn’t  _ care _ ; that he doesn’t have any real friends, no matter how much he likes people around here; that his father is  _ dead _ and he still isn’t over it.

To Louis, he doesn’t have to explain anything. 

The man just pulls him in for one kiss after the other, and Harry gets dizzy by the way Louis’ tongue invades his mouth mercilessly, like each lick just makes him want another and another and then one more. Harry feels the same, if he’s being perfectly honest. He hates to admit it, but Louis is  _ addicting _ . He kisses him knowing that there is no point in trying to resist – not that he wants to, right now – because he’ll end up caving in.

And right now it doesn’t matter how much Harry hates what Louis represents in his life. It doesn’t matter that he spent seven years cursing his name and that Louis is some kind of  _ boss _ in his book. Nothing matters, especially not when he climbs over the console to straddle Louis’ body. Louis backs the seat as far away as possible from the steering wheel, so Harry doesn’t hurt his back, and he appreciates it.

“What d’you want, Harry?” Louis asks in his neck, careful not to leave marks but biting anyways.

“Wanna ride you,” he answers right away. Of  _ this _ he is sure.

Louis moans at Harry’s reply and starts working on taking their clothes off; at least their shirts come off easily. Harry does his best not to lose his balance when he takes off his pants and gets naked on top of Louis, who’s only got his hard cock out. God, this is a mess, Harry feels like he’s in a trashy porn movie when he hands Louis the lube as he works on retrieving the condom from the glove compartment - as he is instructed.

They work fast together, and as soon as the condom is in place and Louis is lubed up, their hands are everywhere and the more Louis plays with his nipples, the more he arches his back, letting his groans reverberate in the car and get to Louis, who answers by biting hard on his neck a few seconds later, and then squeezing his thighs. Harry wants more, Harry  _ needs _ more. He needs the sadness and the frustration and twenty-five years of feeling like nothing fucked out of him. He wants to feel  _ something  _ good.

 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Louis voices when Harry raises to his knees so the other man can reach between his legs and find his hole.

“I’m not a virgin, Louis, don’t need you praising me, just need you to open me up and fuck me good, can you do that?” He huffs out impatiently. Louis swallows thickly and enters him with two fingers without any warning. “ _ Oh- fuuuuuuck _ ”, it’s more of a pleasure-cry than a complaint, but he’s complaining too.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

“I think you know just how  _ good _ I can fuck you”, Louis says, his fingers scissoring him nonstop, pumping in and out on the rightest side of rough possible, just what Harry needs. “But I don’t have a problem reminding you.”

Louis kisses him again, but it’s different. It’s more urgent, if possible, and as Harry struggles to breathe, Louis inserts a third finger, no teasing involved, and he fucks his hole with them just as much as he fucks Harry’s mouth with his tongue.

Harry lets his forehead rest on Louis’ shoulder and just bounces up and down as the other doctor prepares him to receive his cock. This kind of closeness is not like something Harry’s ever experienced, because although there is nothing more personal than having sex with someone, it’s always felt a little impersonal, somehow. Until Louis.

Louis knows where to trace his fingers and how to  _ not _ hit Harry’s prostate, knowing that it’ll all be over too soon if he does. He knows how to bite his jaw but not his neck anymore, again, trying to avoid love bites, and he knows when to replace his hand with his cock.

He doesn’t know how Louis knows these things; they sure as hell didn’t  _ practice _ that much to know each other. It’s all instinct, he figures, and as much as Harry wants this to be hate sex, he knows it’s  _ desperate  _ sex. He was the one who asked Louis for it in the first place. He’s the one who’s fucked up in more ways than he can explain and decided that the person he should stay away from is the one who is fit to take his sorrows away, even if for an hour or so.

 

Harry tries to breathe when he notices Louis ripping the foil package with his teeth, but it’s difficult because  _ fuck, hot _ is all he thinks. 

“Help me out here, princess.” Louis smirks as he says it, and Harry looks at him to find his pupils just as blown as his own must be.

Harry scoots forwards again and takes Louis’ slick dick in his hand, teasing his own rim with Louis’ tip, dragging it around and  _ on _ it, but never letting it in. He himself whines by doing so, he wants Louis inside him  _ so _ much but it’s just  _ so _ good to watch Louis squirm underneath him.

Louis grabs him by the hips and stops him a few minutes later, says he can’t take the teasing anymore, but that Harry should get ready to take  _ him _ . And then, much like he did with his fingers, he slams into Harry at once, a harsh drag splitting Harry in two and making him scream and hurt, but hurt  _ so, so good _ , fuck, Louis  _ really _ knows how to handle him, doesn’t he? How is that possible?

He waits a bit once he’s in. Harry’s head falls forwards again and he grabs onto both of Louis’ arms.

Slowly, or at least slower than what he’d like to begin with, Harry raises his body again and feels Louis’ hands grab his hips, helping him up and down on his first tries. Then, once he gets used to it, he braces himself on Louis’ shoulders and starts bouncing.

Louis doesn’t say much, or anything at all, he just lets out strings of  _ uh-s _ and  _ ah-s _ feeling Harry contract around him, and Harry does his best to be good; and by the looks of it, he is. If Louis were trying not to leave any marks on Harry’s neck, he certainly isn’t much worried about his hips or legs. 

He’s got one hand on Harry’s hip now and another on his thigh, and he thrusts up just as Harry’s coming down, sucking Harry’s collarbone and squeezing, squeezing,  _ squeezing _ Harry’s body in his hands, so much that Harry feels pain. And he revels in it,  _ God _ , he does.

“There- right there, don’t stop now,” Harry tells him as Louis starts hitting his prostate, and from now on he’s pretty sure it’s going to be over.

He’s aware of very few things: it’s started raining (no news there), the windows get foggier by the minute, and his hair’s not in a bun anymore. He sits on Louis’ dick at a particular harsh thrust and Louis  _ loves _ the weight, urges him to do it again and Harry simply rests there, split in two, literally, sit on Louis’ thighs and dick as Louis kisses him one more time, moaning and groaning and savoring Harry’s mouth, exploring every corner of it.

Harry kisses him back just as fervently, never really wanting this to end. He moves his hips grinding as much as he can on Louis’ cock, and Louis traces his fingers up the intern’s back, finding his hair and tangling his fingers there, pulling so, so hard that Harry’s head’s pushed back, a sting of pain threatening to border uncomfortable but never really getting there.

Louis follows his mouth and kisses him and Louis is  _ everywhere _ . He’s inside him, thrusting up as much as he is allowed by Harry’s weight, he’s holding his head and he’s sucking on his tongue, his hand on Harry’s dick, stroking him fast, focusing on the head and pressing a thumb on Harry’s slit, and the overwhelming pleasure that’s been building up hits him all at once.

Harry comes with a cry, spurting come between them up to their necks, and he rides his orgasm for so long that Louis comes inside of him while he’s still shuddering with the waves of pleasure, whimpering in the crook of the other man’s neck.

Louis only pulls out when he starts to get soft, too, and even then Harry still feels something, wincing at the soreness, whining at the emptiness. 

Louis kisses the sweat on Harry’s neck and then traces kisses up to his ear, cheeks, forehead, mouth. Harry kisses him again, too, the post-orgasm haze making him forget that this is nothing more than another hookup, inside a car, in front of his house.

 

A knock on the window takes them out of their own little bubble and it’s… Liam. 

No. Fucking. Way.

If looks could kill, both Louis and Harry would be extremely dead by now, many, many feet under the ground so no one would find them. However, when Harry looks at Louis, he is serene, and even manages to smile at Liam, who widens his eyes and shakes his head, making his way inside Harry’s place.

_ What. The. Fuck _ .

“I am so dead.” Harry states, removing himself from Louis’ lap and falling on the passenger seat.

“You’re not.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’m  _ not _ ?” Harry snorts, putting on his clothes. “Liam is my boss, Louis.”

“Yeah. And I am your boss’s boss. He can hate you, but he can’t really do anything.”

“He can go to the chief.” Harry reminds him.

Louis chuckles.

“What is so funny?”

“You mean to tell  _ me _ James didn’t tell  _ you _ that  _ he _ already knows?” Louis asks, buttoning his trousers again.

“What?”

“First day I saw you I told him, Harry. Then when I found out who you really were I talked to him again. I don’t hide things from my superiors. He wasn’t happy, but what happens between us happens between us. As long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” He explains calmly, but Harry’s mind’s working at light speed.

James knows. James  _ knew _ when he called Harry to give him a lecture about working well with Louis. What—

“James is an old friend of my mom’s.” Harry blurts out. He doesn’t even know why.

“I know.” Louis says. “He’s an old friend of mine, too. He was my mentor, and now he’s one of the people I trust the most in the world. And he trusts  _ me _ to be able to separate things—and  _ I _ trust  _ you _ to do the same. Not that it seems like a problem, because apparently the fact that you hate me doesn’t stop you from fucking me.”

“It was a lapse in judgement.” He responds defensively.

“I was not complaining.” Louis smirks.

“Good. Because I still hate you. It’s not my fault your body’s appealing to me.” Harry reasons as if he’s an eighteen year old and not actually a graduated physician who lives a very much adult life.

“I can live with that.” The other man answers; his smile doesn’t really reach his eyes, but Harry doesn’t notice it.

“Alright then.” Harry sighs. “I’m going in, it’s my party and all.”

“Enjoy it.”

“I will.” Harry opens the door and gets out. “Thanks for the surgery. And the orgasm.”  He closes it.

“You deserved both.” Louis says, rolling the windows down. He winks.

Harry laughs and walks around the car, ready to make his way inside the house. Then, because he really needs to remind  _ Louis _ of it, he gets closer to the attending’s window.

“Already miss me?” 

“I still hate you.” Harry warns.

“I don’t care.”

Louis turns on the engine and leaves without another word. Harry’s left on the sidewalk as a Kesha song starts playing.

Time to face the party then. Literally.

 

-

 

The next day everybody has the worst hangover ever, except for Harry who didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol – he was feeling high enough – and Niall, who, apparently, does not get hangovers.

When he enters the hospital, Perrie cursing the heavens by his side and Jade trailing behind, Harry already knows it’s going to be a long day. There is something about the calmness of an ER that makes everything scary, like it’s not supposed to be like this. Which is why less than thirty minutes into his shift an ambulance arrives and they’re asked to page cardio.

Harry’s on Zayn’s service again today and he quite likes it to be honest.

It’s a mother in labor, but her heart rate is irregular and God, moms in labor are always the most difficult ones for Harry. He’s not good at dealing with the fact that a child who wasn’t even born yet may die. Pediatrics is definitely not for him, even if today it has to be.

 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Sheeran.” A very, very ginger man smiles stretching his hand out to Harry and Zayn. “Dr. Payne told me to find you?”

“Yeah, we got a pregnant lady and we think she might go into labor during surgery…” Harry says.

“We  _ don’t _ think she will go into labor during surgery,” Zayn intervenes, clearly annoyed, “but it is a possibility, which is why we need you in the OR, to monitor the fetus.”

“I’ll be happy to assist.” Dr. Sheeran smiles. 

“See you in the OR in fifteen minutes then.” Dr. Malik says.

“Yes, Sir.” And then he walks out, or, well, slides out with his roller skate shoes.

“Fuck, now I’ll have two kids in the OR.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “And no, I am not counting the fetus.” He talks and starts walking. “Fucking peds surgeons, I swear to God, they think life’s all prettiness and rosy skins.”

“I think—” Harry starts, “I think they have to.”

“They don’t  _ have _ to.”

“But they do. Peds surgeons see really small kids dying all the time. They need to see prettiness and rosy skins, otherwise they’re left with small coffins in their dreams.” He objects.

“And us, Harry?” Doctor Malik questions. “What do we do in order not to see really big coffins in our dreams?” 

Harry doesn’t have an answer for that.

 

The mother turns out to be all right. Zayn  _ is _ really fucking good after all, and nothing happens to the baby that at some point Harry stopped calling  _ fetus _ , and after the surgery’s over, Ed –  _ Doctor Sheeran – _ invites Harry to do rounds with him. Zayn allows it, and Harry’s fast to agree.

 

“I’m not much for sick kids.” Harry confesses after they leave the third room. “I love kids too much to see them sick, I guess.”

“D’you want kids?”

“Have you seen me?” Harry snorts. “I’d never infect a child with my terrible dark and twisty genes.”

“You, dark and twisty?” It’s Ed’s turn to snort.

“You’d be surprised.” Harry sighs. “Do  _ you _ want kids?”

“Loads, man,” Doctor Sheeran replies. “For some reason, life just seems to make a lot more sense when we're looking at a baby.”

And yeah, no wonder he is a kids’ surgeon.

 

-

 

A week and a half passes until Harry’s on Liam’s service again. He figures it’s because the doctor didn’t want to deal with him, but if his strategy was to try and not kill Harry with the looks he was giving him when they finally worked together, then the resident failed miserably, Harry thinks. For someone whose eyes resemble puppy ones so much, Liam sure as hell can put on a mask.

They’ve been rounding for one hour and Liam is yet to look Harry in the eyes. Harry presents the cases and hears nothing but “thank you, Doctor Styles” repeatedly, which is… Okay. Harry doesn’t need any praising for doing his job, but it’d be nice if his resident could at least acknowledge his presence once they’re out of a patient’s room.

He doesn’t, though, except when lunchtime’s approaching and he hands him a pile of charts, asking him to update them.

“Of course”, Harry replies, and instead of sitting at the cafeteria with all of his friends, he goes to the back of the hospital with a coffee in hands and his earplugs playing  _ The 1975’s _ new album.  

He’s on his fourth chart when Zayn Malik comes walking out of the back door as well, cigarette in one hand and fire on the other. When he sees Harry he stops for one second, but then keeps walking towards him, a mixture of anger and sorrow on his face.

“All right, Doctor Malik?” Harry asks, looking up.

“Stressed,” is all he replies, sitting there and lighting up his cigarette. “D’you mind?”

“No.” Harry says and focuses back on his chart. Just for three seconds. Then, he has to say it: “it’s a bit ironic… A cardiothoracic surgeon smoking. You should be a walking anti-smoking ad.”

To his surprise, Zayn laughs. Zayn Malik  _ actually _ laughs.

“Bad day. Lost a patient. Am stressed.” He offers Harry short sentences before taking a drag.

“It’s a bad day for the patient too, I suppose.”

“Eh. Thing is, I’m always stressed. And stress ruins every day of your life… Dying only ruins one.” The attending speaks nonchalantly.

“That’s… Something I’ve never heard before, definitely.”

Harry ponders whether he should continue this conversation or not, but Zayn doesn’t seem like a person of many words. Plus, it’s not like they are friends. So Harry accepts Zayn’s side smile as an answer and focuses back on his charts. 

He sees that the attending is paying attention to some of them, but isn’t bothered. Somehow, the smell of Zayn’s smoke is calming to him too, especially with Matty’s voice ringing in his ear. In a way, this is an okay day at work – even if he’s not doing much. But then again, Harry guesses inside the hospital there is some crazy action going on, and the only reason he’s cut out of it is Louis.

And maybe it is a bit childish to put all the blame on him. Harry feels like he should take responsibility for the night of his birthday; after all,  _ he _ was the one who asked Louis to fuck him, to make him forget. But how could he? How could  _ Louis _ make him forget all this shit that’s happened to Harry when he was so involved in the process of making Harry’s life even shittier?

Harry doesn’t want to deal with it, though. And there are only two moments of his life when he doesn’t feel like everything is wrong: one is when he is in surgery, learning, being entranced by the human body. The other is when he’s having sex with Louis, he’s recently found out. The irony doesn’t make him laugh because it makes him want to cry.

 

“STYLES!” He hears somebody yell over the music at the same time Zayn nudges his thigh with his thumb, as if to warn him.

“Shit.” Harry whispers as he takes off the earplugs.

“If I page you, you come fucking running.” Liam walks towards him. “You do not ignore my pages, or has your tiny little mind forgotten about it?”

“I’m sorry, I was focused on the charts, I-”

“Did anybody die, Liam?” Zayn asks him, cool as a cucumber.

“No, Sir.” Liam answers. “I simply needed to know where my intern was. I always account for everybody.”

“Well, now you do. No need to go screaming outside of a hospital, ‘s not very polite. Plus, I was distracting Doctor Styles here, and I apologize for it.” He finishes.

“I- well, uh- it’s all right, Doctor Malik.” Harry’s resident looks a lot more composed now. “Styles, a word?” He asks and starts walking towards the back entrance again.

“Man, I don’t know what you did to piss Liam off, he’s literally  _ never _ angry. Good luck with that.”

“I wish I could tell you-” Harry starts.

“I’m not curious.”

“Oh. Kay, then. Hm… Thanks for covering for me, Doctor Malik. It won’t ever happen again. I’m sorry you’re having a bad day.” He says as he gets up.

“This job’s a pile of bad days, Harry.” Zayn replies. “Learn to live for the good ones, eh?”

Harry nods and grabs his things, doing his best not to stumble on his own feet and drop all the charts he’s so carefully finished updating after not having lunch. Liam’s waiting for him in the hallway, and Harry only takes one breath before he starts speaking again.

Liam tells him he won’t be on his service again for at least a week, because Liam can’t, for the life of him, deal with Harry right now.

“I don’t know what I did for you to hate me so much.” He ends up saying.  _ Wrong move _ .

“Look, Styles, I don’t hate you. I don’t  _ feel _ anything for you. But  _ you _ have made my job extremely more difficult than it already is by  _ sleeping with an attending _ . Not  _ any  _ attending, but the head of neurosurgery, a man that everyone worships around here, a man who has more influence in my career, probably, than the chief of surgery in this hospital. Wasn’t it enough for you to just be the son of Anne and Des Styles?” He huffs out. “No, I don’t hate you. But I sure as hell don’t like you right now.” 

Well then.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Harry tells Liam. “When I first slept with Louis-”

“ _ Doctor Tomlinson _ .”

“When I first slept with him he was  _ just Louis _ . I was  _ just _ Harry and I had no idea of who he was.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve gone through college without hearing his name and reading his papers?” He snorts. “Nice try.”

“I’m telling you that when he fucked me I didn’t even know his first name.” Harry replies. “Now, I am sorry, Doctor Payne, that my sexual activities make your life so much more difficult. It was never my intention. And I didn’t intend to sleep with him again after I found out, I swear I didn’t. But it was my birthday, I was exhausted, my mom hadn’t called and Lou- Doctor  Tomlinson said he’d give me a ride and I-”

“Gave him one instead.” Liam completes. “Right now you're feeling all your feelings out in the open. Do me a favor and stuff them back in.” His resident says. “As  _ I _ was saying, you’ll be on my service again next week. For the rest of this one you’re with Doctor Flack.” He says decisively and walks away.

Harry follows.

The day isn’t nearly over yet.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everything so far.


	5. DENY DENY DENY

 

March starts with rain.

 _Why Does it Always Rain on Me?_ by Travis keeps playing on repeat on Harry’s mind and it’s not even metaphorical. It’s literally been raining for six days straight, and Harry can’t seem to keep his hair dry, no matter how much he tries.

He’s complaining about it for the hundredth time when Perrie offers him her blow dryer.

“It’s in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom. You can use it.”

“I will, thanks.” Then he yawns. “Fuck, I need to sleep. My back’s killing me, my head won’t stop pounding, I fucking _hate_ college kids.”

“Tough night?” She asks, still focused on her frying eggs.

“Yeah. Somebody had the amazing idea of challenging ‘the nerd’ to dip in a concrete bathtub and stay for fuck if I know how long. Nine fucking hours just to stabilize the guy.”

“Did he make it?”

“Barely.” He answers. “Malik and Flack are working together on him. There’s still a lot to do, I reckon. You might get in on it if you get there earlier.” Harry offers. “There might still be some cool surgeries on him.”

“Can’t wait!” Her eyes shine. “Eggs?”

“You made them for me?”

“For us,” she shrugs. “They’re good. I’m a good cook.”

“Jesus, you are.” He closes his eyes as he takes the first bite. “I used to like cooking. And baking.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Life.” He shrugs.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Perrie muses. “It’s four in the fucking morning, and you’re just getting back from work meanwhile I have to go back in like- one hour. You’re twenty five and complaining about college kids as if just yesterday you weren’t one.”

“Fucking crazy.” He agrees.

“D’you miss it? Being a kid?” She asks.

Harry finds it a tough question to answer, simply because he’s not 100% convinced he knows what being a kid even is.

Ever since he learned how to walk, the hospital has been his world. Of course he spent time at home and at school, but not enough to ever feel truly welcomed in any of those places.

He remembers sitting at his dad’s clinic for hours on end playing with all the different hearts of plastic he had there and being complimented on his memory skills whenever he got something right about a patient.

He also remembers being “very mature for his age”. Literally everyone who has ever met him said that – his first memory of that being from when he was six and had a skinned knee during Physical Education and not crying, because he was sure his blood platelets were gonna help him anytime soon.

It was just easier to be mature, otherwise his mom would give him the stink eye and his dad would have to fight with her.

“Just a little.” He ends up saying. He misses the rare summer trips they took as a family. “I grew up pretty fast.”

“Yeah, so did I. Did I tell you that I used to live behind a trailer?” She asks.

“No, really?”

And then Perrie proceeds to tell him her story. She doesn’t go into much detail because they don’t have much time, and she seems to be one of those people who doesn’t really like being vulnerable – Harry can relate –, but he still feels like they bond, somehow.

When it’s four forty she goes to the hospital as he wishes her luck. Harry starts on the dishes and then goes to shower and dry his hair. He feels like he has only blinked and it’s time to wake up again.

Since he has today off, he feels like he _could_ spend all day in bed, but then he remembers the house needs cleaning, and he promised the girls he’d do the shopping this week.

They take turns every fifteen days, and Harry thinks it works pretty well. Jade is the best at buying food, he reckons, but they’re all very hands on when it comes to making their little group feel like a family. Both girls plus Jesy and Niall have proven to be amazing company if Harry says so himself, and for someone who has never had many friends, Harry needs to recognize that, besides being scared, he should be at least a bit happy about it too.

 

-

 

Friday comes earlier than he would like. For some people it’s an amazing day. For him, today, it means twenty four hours on shift, plus twelve in the lab. He’ll only leave this place on Sunday – if that.

Upon entering the hospital he is welcomed by James Corden warning them about the weather being even worse today, so they should expect a full ER. He’s about to complain about it, you _never_ predict something bad, but then Niall says:

“Smart. The chief’s so smart.” He smiles. “He’s doing the opposite of being hopeful.”

“What?”

“I mean- whenever you say that the ER is empty, it takes like a minute for ambulances to arrive. But if he’s already expecting a hellish day, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“But didn’t you just jinx it then?” He turns to him and frowns.

“Shit.” His buddy curses.

Harry laughs.

As it turns out, both Niall and Harry are on Louis’s service today. Doctor Payne gives Harry a horrible look when he assigns him, and Harry simply swallows hard before following Niall to find Doctor Tomlinson.

“This is gonna be good.” Niall says.

“Shut up.”

“Are you guys still sleeping together?” He asks. “Please, I need to know, it’s for research.”

“I could be wrong here, but I think this is none of your business.” Harry whispers as they approach Louis.

“Feisty. Does Doctor Tomlinson like it?”

“Niall, I swear to God-”

“Do I like what?” Louis smiles and they turn around. Great.

“Uh, aneurysms.” Harry answers too quickly.

“Well, I wouldn’t like _having_ any, but clipping them is fun. Maybe Horan will get lucky and see one up close this shift.”

The only reason Harry doesn’t complain is because he’s already seen one. Also, as much as he tries to deny it, he really fucking likes Niall.

“Seriously?” The other intern’s eyes widen.

“I have one scheduled for tonight. Let’s hope nothing major comes in.”

“Now the _two of you_ have jinxed today,” Harry points and Louis looks at him questioningly. “Nothing, Sir, I’m sorry.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. As they start walking towards a patient’s room, he comes quite close to Harry, and whispers in his ear:

“I kind of like you calling me Sir.”

 _Shit_.

 

-

 

 _Doctor Tomlinson to the ER. Doctor Tomlinson to the ER._ The speaker keeps repeating and Louis starts running towards the elevators. Harry and Niall follow him right away, and the three men are panting once the doors close.

“I think it’s a stroke, guys. We gotta work fast, alright?”

Harry and Niall nod and take a few deep breaths before they get there.

As soon as they enter the area the patient’s in, a screaming woman grabs Louis by the arms and starts speaking frantically…

“It was during _sex_ , this never ever happened, he is very healthy and-”

“Somebody take her away.” Louis says freeing himself from her.

“No, you don’t get it, he’s vegan!! Do you think it might-”

“HORAN, DRAG HER AWAY FROM HERE, NOW.” He yells once more as Harry circles the bed.

“What can I do?” He asks.

“He’s already got an IV, right?” Louis asks the nurse and then looks to check anyways. “Okay, Harry, check if it’s an eighteen gauge IV- ok, push fifteen mils of tPA then start the stepdown.”

“Kay.”

“What is tPA for, Harry, talk to me.” He urges him to answer as he uses his pen light to inspect the patient’s eyes.

“It’s a clot busting drug; essentially it breaks the clot in the brain.”

“Yes, that’s it.” Doctor Tomlinson smiles, but doesn’t look him in the eye, too focused on the patient’s vitals. “Okay, we need to get him an MRI to see exactly where it is and how bad… His heart rate’s stable for now, take him and page me if anything happens, all right?”

“Sure.”

“Get me the results as fast as we can, I’mma talk to crazy lady out there.”

“She’s just nervous.” Harry says.

“I know.” Louis responds and then walks away.

Why the MRI line is so fucking long Harry will never know. Sure, this is a _hospital_ , but _My God_ do people have to get their heads hurt and checked every day at every freaking hour? Harry’s bored to death with a patient in line when his name’s called up. Niall is somewhere else with Louis at the moment and for a brief moment, he wishes their positions were reversed.

He doesn’t even want to dwell on it, but there isn’t much to do while the patient’s still being scanned, so he just wonders why the hell Louis is so appealing to him. Like every fiber in his fucking body responds to him in a way it has never responded to anybody else and Harry knows it’s not normal. He also knows there is no scientific explanation for that.

It just is. And as much as Harry tries to deny it, every time he notices him looking at him from across the room, or their arms brush, or they’re working together, Harry feels all giddy on the inside – and he hates it. God, does he hate it!

Harry doesn’t have anybody to talk to about it. Sure, he could ask Niall for advice, but even that wouldn’t be enough, because he doesn’t want to talk about the past. He doesn’t want to say the words _Louis killed my father_ out loud. He doesn’t want to make this any more real than it already is because then… Then he’ll have to acknowledge how much he is betraying the memory of his dad. How dirty and selfish he is for giving in to his desires when the moral thing to do is the complete opposite.

 

“Doctor Styles, scans are up.” The woman calls his name and Harry focuses on the screen.

Damn it.

“Can you send it to Doctor Tomlinson’s iPad?” He asks.

“Yes, sure.”

“Thank you.”

Harry finds him and Niall laughing over two muffins in the cafeteria and does his best not to roll his eyes.

“Harry, did you know Doctor Tomlinson went to Dartmouth as well? Same as you, mate.”

“I did.” Harry says. It was impossible to escape the name, but he managed to dodge each and every _special lecture_ Louis gave there over the last few years.

“I didn’t know you went there.” Louis says, an airy smile on his face.

“I never told you.” Harry replies. “I had the scans sent to your iPad. Think he’ll need an angioplasty.”

Louis pulls up the scans and looks at them for less than five seconds before nodding.

“Good call, Harry- uh, Doctor Styles. Do either of you know how to perform an angioplasty?”

They both nod negatively.

“Okay. Page Chief Corden, he’ll do it brilliantly and you can both assist. Whoever finishes first meet me in the OR. I have a spine to operate on in…” He checks his phone. “Two minutes ago. Shit.” He gets up. “Page the chief, tell him what you know and what I asked. Prep the patient for surgery. Update the girl. I’ll check in on him as soon as I have some time.” And he walks away.

 

-

 

Seven hours later and Mr. Stinson – also known as “stroke patient” – is finally awake and on blood thinners. Niall is prepping another one of Louis’ patients for the aneurysm he’ll finally watch – maybe help – the doctor clip, while Harry’s here with him to update him on the patient’s situation.

“… Patient’s stable and no brain damage has been detected.” Harry finishes his presentation.

“Thank you, Doctor Styles.” Louis smiles. “How are you feeling, Mr. Stinson?

“Better.”

“Good, good. Wife coming home late again?”

“Hm,” Harry clears his throat, “Doctor Tomlinson, she’s here.” He nods towards the woman on the couch, the hysterical one from earlier.

“How could you possibly know that?” Mr. Stinson says before Louis or Harry say anything else. “Did anyone tell you?”

"Your deodorant, when you were admitted, told me that. It's for men."

"Of course it is; I wear it."

"So does Miss Walker here. I'm guessing she came for a cup of tea and stayed the night. She might've scrubbed your floor as well, by the state of her knees." He looks pointedly at her knees then.

“I-” Mr. Stinson starts.

“I suggest that you tell your mistress to go home before your wife gets here. The nurses have already contacted her. Have a lovely night, Mr. Stinson. Miss Walker.” He looks at them one more time, signs the chart and exits the room.

 

"That man’s just had a stroke, for God’s sake.” Harry says as soon as they’re out of the room. “He’s a patient. You have _patients_ , who are people, not robots. Do you care about them at all?" He asks as he follows _Doctor Tomlinson_ around.

"Would caring help me solve their cases?” Louis stops in front of another door. It’s a rhetorical question. “The answer is no. So I'll keep on not caring."

"And you find that easy?" The intern knows he sounds alarmed now.

"Very,” the reply comes coldly. "Oh, I've disappointed you." Louis notices.

"Good deduction." He replies, too stunted to say anything else.

"Don't make people heroes, Harry.” The attending replies tiredly. His cold mask falling for a moment. “Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Then he opens the door to the on-call room, raises an eyebrow to Harry.

“You have another surgery in half an hour.”

“I could sleep or make out with you in half an hour. Which one it will be only depends on you.” He shrugs and goes in.

Needless to say, Harry enters right after, being pinned to the door and receiving an urgent, hungry kiss right away.

 

 -

 

At the end of his shift, Doctor Styles is completely, utterly drained. Say what you will about Louis – and he himself does, clearly – but the man is a busy one. He treats everyone equally and is nice to all of them, if they deserve it, of course. Harry learns today that besides being annoyingly observant, Louis is also a good judge of character.

Niall is absolutely _in love_ with him. Even calls him “The Fucking Tommo” secretly. Harry only agrees to go out with him tonight and have a drink because his friend promises him that there’ll be no Louis talk, and that’s exactly what he needs.

Harry showers at the hospital and sleeps for one hour, waiting for Niall to finish his evening rounds. When he wakes up, Louis is sitting right there, on the floor, across from his bed. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Harry asks a bit startled.

“Door’s locked, don’t worry.”

“Were you- were you watching me sleep?” He squints his eyes.

“Didn’t get to do it that first night… You kinda woke me up first, didn’t you?”

“Oh, God, can you stop talking about that?” Harry groans.

“Yes, sorry. I just…” Louis trails. “I care about most patients, I do. But that guy? The stroke patient? He’s been cheating on his wife for almost fifteen years, Harry.”

“It’s not your right to talk to a patient like that, though.”

“It is my right to have feelings from time to time. It is not yours to reprimand me for it. I’m your attending, Harry, whether you like it or not.” Doctor Tomlinson shrugs.

“Trust me, I don’t like you, I-”

“You hate me, I get the point. Doesn’t change reality.”

“I never disrespect you in front of anyone, Louis. Not even when we’re in private. I made a comment, that’s all.” Harry defends himself.

“Yeah, whatever.” Louis knocks his head back on the wall.

“Whatever.” He responds and gets up. “I’m going out, my shift’s over. Good night, Doctor Tomlinson.” Harry opens the door.

He hears a weak _night, Hazz_ when he steps out.

 

-

 

“Soooooo, what are we having tonight?” Niall asks as soon as they finish their second pint.

“Isn’t this enough?” Harry chuckles as he waves to the bartender.

“No. I’m talking about shots.”

“Whatever you wanna have. I’m off tomorrow.” Harry smiles greatly.

“And I have high tolerance for alcohol.” His friend celebrates. “Hey, Oli! Six shots of tequila, please!”

“Jesus Christ.” He takes a deep breath.

“Go big or go home, Harold.” Niall winks and goes towards the darts while they wait for their shots. It’s a busy night tonight and it’s not even a Friday.

Harry never liked the expression _go big or go home_ , ever since he was a teenager and people kept saying it at school. Being a very literal person, he just never saw the point in it. Going home has always been one of his favorite things to do growing up, and even now.

He is reflecting about this and thinking of another suitable word to replace _home_ and start a new trend when a tall, lean body comes into focus.

“Hey, there.” The man speaks to him.

He’s tall, lean, has a high quiff and looks older than Harry.

“Evening.” Harry replies, ever so polite.

“May I sit here?”

“It’s a free pub,” he replies. “But when my friend comes back, you’re getting up.” He warns and raises an eyebrow.

“Feisty.” The guy laughs. “I’m Nick, nice to meet you.”

“Harry,” he replies. “You from the city?”

“Nah, New York.” Nick replies.

“Oh. Nice.”

“Where are you from?”

“Boston.” Harry replies.

“Here you are.” Oli, the bartender, hands him his shots.

“Wow.” Nick widens his eyes. “Bad day?”

“Bad life,” Harry shrugs. “NIALLER!” He screams to get his friend’s attention. Niall gives him thumbs up and starts walking towards the bar.

“You’re too pretty to say that.” The guy says.

“Thanks.” Is all the answers. “You’re lovely, but I’m not looking for a hookup tonight. I just need to get drunk.”

“Who said I wanted to hook up with you?” Nick asks.

“You called me pretty.”

“Because you are,” he laughs.

“So you wouldn’t hook up with me?” Harry squints his eyes.

“I never said that!” He exclaims. “But you’re just here to get drunk. So please, get drunk. I was just here for...” He trails and gets up just as Niall’s getting back. Nick guy pats his friend on the back and says “take care of your friend tonight”.

Niall smiles.

“Who’s that?” He asks Harry, taking his place back on the stool.

“Name’s Nick.”

“He’s fit.” His friend notices.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees. “Let’s get drunk.”

And drunk they get.

Harry watches the people come and go and it’s nearing one in the morning when the music goes up on this goddamn Wednesday. Niall’s already made friends with half of the bar and is currently yelling _yes bitches_ as he dances and makes a group of girls laugh. He’ll probably take one of them home tonight, and now Harry wants to sleep with someone too.

He looks around and that Nick guy is nowhere to be seen. There aren’t many interesting men here either, so he just asks Oli for one more pint. Mixing drinks is never ever a good idea, but he’s not caring about that tonight, three shots of tequila already in.

Three pints. Two more shots. One forty in the morning.

Where the hell is Niall?

And what the fuck is Louis doing coming in here?

The doctor is on the other side of the bar, and Harry goes there, his legs moving before his drunk-self processes anything.

“Why are you following meeee?” Harry slurs getting close to Louis.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis groans and takes a shot. It looks like vodka.

“Why, Lou-eh? Whyyy do you have to be everywhere I aaam?” He says as he leans his body on the bar counter.

Piano Man starts playing and Harry likes it. He kind of wants to sing right now, but he’s got more important matters to see to, like Louis responding to him in a less drunken state than Harry is.

 

“Believe it or not, my world does not revolve around you, Harry Styles.” Louis turns around. “You’re pretty drunk. You should go home.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m not. Leave me.” Louis sighs.

“That’s new.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He replies and takes another shot.

Rejection doesn’t sit well with Harry. So he sits by Louis’ side and orders whatever he’s having.

Both of them drink and drink and drink and it is a good thing Harry was so problematic while growing up, because it made his endurance to alcohol a lot better.

They only leave the bar at last call, at which point they share a cab and Louis pays for it. Or Harry thinks so. He’s dropped off first by the cab, passes out on the couch, and reminds himself to thank the heavens for not having to work the next day.

Harry’s had worse.

But then again, he’s had much, much better too.

 

 


	6. OH, THE GUILT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Nick Grimshaw, everybody.

 

Harry has two moods and two moods only: drunk and sleepy. Seriously. Ever since this year started and he became a real doctor, all he does is work his ass off when he’s on call, and drink his weight in beer and tequila when he has days off. It’s his way of coping.

Today’s a Friday, or at least Harry _thinks_ it’s a Friday. It’s ten thirty in the morning, and he’s already been puked on three times by a patient who needs an emergency appendectomy. He’s on the chief’s service today, as Liam assigned him, and he knows he’s only assisting on a simple procedure, but he also knows that if he does things right, this might just be his first opportunity to impress James Corden as more than Anne’s son.

He’s on a coffee run when it happens.

James told him to go outside and bring them both some coffee from across the street – a coffee shop next to Oli’s bar, which Harry thinks is quite clever: a place to drink and a place to cure hangovers – because it’s better than the one in the hospital cafeteria, and meet him in twenty minutes outside OR 4, where the twenty-four year old woman is being prepped.

Harry doesn’t know why, but it’s always harder to operate on people his age, or close to. The fact that they have lived almost the same amount of time that he has makes him think that he could easily be in their place, and that’s a scary thought.

 

It’s not raining, which is a huge surprise for the end of February in Seattle, but it’s still too cold, even for someone who’s used to harsher weather. Harry takes a deep breath as the wind hits his face when he walks out of the coffee shop and crosses the street back to the hospital. This is literally something he does every day, and it never ceases to amaze him what few minutes of fresh air can do to a person.

The inside of the hospital can make someone crazy, Harry reckons. You can never tell time – if it’s day or night, no one ever sleeps for more than an hour and in most rooms you can hear the noise coming from TVs. The air in the corridors has an artificial perfumed scent to try and distract people from the smell of _medicine_ , and all the seats are plush, every surface is dustless.

The nurses are unhurried, for most part, and they move with a serene purposefulness that Harry hopes to one day achieve; next to their station on the surgical floor, there are vases of flowers, and beautiful framed pieces of art on the walls, almost as if they feel comfortable in there, at home. Maybe they do. Harry sure does, despite everything.

As soon as he’s back, he sees a tall man leaning against the nurse’s station, and he’s trying really hard to get something, but Barbara, one of Harry’s favorite nurses, keeps telling him _no_. Harry approaches them and rests his coffee cups on the counter, clearing his throat.

“May I help?” He asks.

“Hi, Doctor Styles,” Barbara smiles at him.

“Hi, Barb,” he smiles back.

“You!” The man says to him as soon as Harry turns on his side. _Oh_ . Harry _knows_ him. “Harry, right? I’m Nick, from the bar?” He introduces himself and Harry’s memory is back to working.

Yes. Harry knows who he is; he’s the guy who thought Harry was fit, but didn’t want to hook up with him.

“Hi, Nick,” Harry says. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Harry smiles easily.

“Well, aren’t I full of surprises?” Nick smirks and Harry rolls his eyes. Barbara leaves them alone, seeing that this is handled.

“What brings you here? You visiting someone?” He asks.

“Not… Really? I mean, I am visiting someone, just not a very pleasant visit…” The man tells Harry and Harry feels for him. It’s never easy to come to hospitals.

“D’you know their room? I could maybe help you-”

“Oh, no, I’m not here for-” Nick never finishes his sentence, though, because someone yanks Harry’s arm from behind and gets in front of him almost as fast as Harry can _blink_.

Someone being _Louis_.

“Stay the fuck away from him!” Doctor Tomlinson says, his back to Harry.

“Is that him then…?” Nick muses, looking over Louis’ shoulders. “Really?” Then he looks back at Louis. “Oh, Harry-”

“Shut up.” Louis says harshly.

“I quite liked you last night…” Nick continues.

“I- uh. What?” He frowns, walking from behind Louis and standing between the two men, looking from one to the other without understanding anything.

“What d’you mean you _liked him last night_ ?” Louis asks, voice borderline possessive, which- does _not_ turn Harry on.

“I mean we met at Oli’s yesterday, and we talked, didn’t we Harry?” Nick smirks again; now that Harry’s thinking about it, the man seems to have a permanent smirk on his face. “And I liked him enough till now, when I found out he’s the man that’s been screwing my husband.” He shrugs.

“ _What?_ ” Harry wants to scream, he does, but all that comes out is a whisper. “You-” he looks at Louis, and he _wants_ to say he’s more angry than anything. But Harry’s also hurt. And confused. Shit.

“Harry…”

“When I thought I couldn’t hate you more…” Harry laughs. “Honestly, Doctor Tomlinson.” He snorts. “For what it’s worth, Nick, I had no idea he was married- but then again shame on me; I shouldn’t have expected Doctor Tomlinson to be a decent human being.”

“Harry.” Louis calls his name again. His voice is so small.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a surgery to get to.”

 

Harry gets both cups of coffee and walks out of there faster than he thought was humanly possible, and the only reason he doesn’t _run_ is because he thinks the three of them already created enough of a scene as it is.

He doesn’t even know where to _begin_ to be disappointed. Louis lied to him. Above it all, Harry thinks he’s pissed off because he didn’t _know_. He was blindsided, and caught completely by surprise, and now he is a homewrecker, apparently.

But he’s also angry with the fact that Nick _knows_ , which means Louis must have told someone, and who the fuck does Louis think he is to go telling people about their hookups? It’s not like a few screws, snogs and hand jobs count as a relationship, but they have a _professional_ one to protect, and as if Liam catching them and the chief knowing weren’t enough, Louis went out there and told someone _else?_ And didn’t even consult Harry?

What the hell?

 

Harry’s pretty sure he cries his way to the OR, but when he gets to the corridor and sees James waiting for him at the end, he pulls his act together and walks calmly in his direction. More than anything so far, Harry’s learned to control his emotions and only breakdown when he’s allowed. It’s getting easier day by day; he just hopes he doesn’t forget what it means to be a _person_.

“Sorry I’m late, Sir.” He says, handing the chief of surgery a cup of coffee.

“You’re right on schedule, Styles, it’s fine.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

 

James makes a little bit of small talk while they drink their coffee, but then one of the scrub nurses knocks the glass and lets them know that the patient is ready, and both of them go inside to talk to the patient one last time before she goes under anesthesia.

“I’m scared,” the woman expresses her concern.

“It’s normal to be scared,” Harry soothes her, “but I can tell you for sure that Doctor Corden is the best you could ask for today.”

“Yeah?” She says.

Harry nods.

“I operated on a six year old boy, years ago…” James tells her, one hand on her head, caressing her hair over the hospital cap. “Today he’s this amazing doctor standing by your side.” He tilts his head towards Harry’s side and Harry opens a smile. He doesn’t remember much from that time apart from his dad sleeping by his side and his mom telling him to stop whining.

He remembers James got him a rainbow bear, and that was it.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Hayley.” Harry tells her. “Ready to go under?” He asks and the woman nods. “Count down from ten then, please.” He says. As she starts counting, he looks at the new anesthesiologist Harry _thinks_ is called Vanessa, and then both him and James are out of the room, ready to scrub in.

James compliments him on the smallest of things, from the way he ties his hair under the hospital cap to the way he cleans his nails when he scrubs in. Partly, Harry knows why he does it. Of course the chief doesn’t play any kind of favoritism with him, but knowing Harry and knowing his past, he feels like he needs to praise him from time to time, something that Anne would never dream of doing.

It’s nice, if a bit overwhelming sometimes. Harry doesn’t know how to react, most of the time, but, slowly, he’s learning that too.

 

“There was a time when they used to call operating room theaters…” James tells him as they enter the OR once more. “It still feels like one.”

“It does, Sir.” Harry agrees.

“Ten blade, please.” James asks the scrub nurse and Harry grabs the suction again.

“Play your cards right and next time it might be you cutting someone open, Harry.” James raises an eyebrow, looking at him.

“Yes, Sir.” He smiles.

“You know, your mother and I had our first surgeries on the same day. I did an appy, but Anne was fierce.”

“What did she do?” Harry asks.

James looks at him as if he’s surprised, as if Harry is supposed to have heard this story a zillion times before. Harry hasn’t.

It’s just- people don’t _get_ it. There was no such thing as _bonding_ with Anne, not even about hospital talk. The things Harry knows about her career are the things he’s read over the years and people have told him. Apart from really small moments, Harry feels like he doesn’t know his mom at all, and as far as he is concerned, she doesn’t know him either.

He doesn’t know whether to feel sad or to feel nothing; he doesn’t know which is worse. Harry’s life is a pile of chaotic, consecutive happenings and some scattered spots of happiness. And it’s lonely. God, is it lonely!

You see, at school, Harry was the popular one. He’s always been cheeky and smiley and everyone’s always loved his hair so much he thinks some people only talked to him so they could run their fingers through his curls – he swears! So it was always easy to make friends, because girls wanted him and boys wanted to be like him. Harry just wanted to snog some dudes, always been very gay, thank you very much.

And nothing changed much during college. Despite what his mother might think, he actually worked a _lot_ to be accepted into Dartmouth, and once there, he studied like crazy to graduate top of his class. But none of that means he didn’t have lots of acquaintances and frequented numerous parties. He’s just- really good at dealing with schedules and working under pressure.

So, he’s always had people around him; he’s never felt _alone_. But he’s always been lonely – or, well, he’s been lonely ever since his father died, at least.

Harry shakes his head and focuses on the surgery when James starts speaking again, asking if Harry has any questions. He does.

“Uh- I know it might be a bit idiotic to ask,” he starts, “and I know we are not to ask idiotic questions, but... I know we decided on an open appendectomy because of the severity of this case, but my question is… Why did you decide on a transverse incision instead of the vertical one?”

“It’s not an idiotic question, Doctor Styles, it’s a good one.” James says. “As you know, an open appendectomy requires a transverse incision in the right lower quadrant over the McBurney point, which… Can you tell me where it is, in, you know, English?” He chuckles.

“Two thirds of the way between the umbilicus and the anterior superior iliac spine. Right?”

“Yes. Good one.” The chief says. “The thing about vertical incisions is that they have a tendency for dehiscence and herniation… That’s why they’re rarely performed. Or, well, rarely performed by good physicians.”

“Which you are.” Harry offers.

“I like to think so,” the man smiles. “Get in with the retractor here,” he instructs and Harry obeys, then James places a finger inside the incision to feel where the appendix is. “Feel it.” He then takes his finger out and Harry puts his in.

He’s already done it in med school, on cadavers, of course, but it’s completely different when he’s getting to do it on a body that is _actually alive_.

His eyes shine.

“Awesome,” he whispers as he takes his index finger out again, letting James do his work.

“I remember being an intern… All excited by one surgery.” The chief sighs. “Now I can do most of my surgeries without thinking, like I’m driving and getting home not remembering how…” He speaks as he works, and Harry’s transfixed by his hands and his words. “You guys and the residents… Y’all fight like crazy to do an appy. I’ve come to hate it.” He snorts. “I _hate_ the appendix for getting too hot and bothering people, so _I_ have to get it out. I resent an _organ_. That’s what I’ve come to.”

He laughs at himself and Harry follows him. Even though he can’t _wait_ to get to this phase, Harry’s even more excited about the process of getting there.

“I’m sure you’re still going to find many challenges in the way, Sir.”

“It’s all one can hope for, Styles.” He replies. “There it is…” He removes the appendix from the body and holds it in the air, placing it on a tray that is promptly offered to him by the nurse.

After that, the surgery is finished in half an hour.

 

Harry only stayed one hour and a half inside this OR, but during that hour and a half he managed to forget the hurricane that just came into this life in the form of Nick, AKA Louis’ husband, and feel like a human being again. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But then… HA!

_BUT THEN._

He takes the elevator with James and the patient, and they try to wake the patient up on the way, but she’s still a bit groggy, so they give up on it when they exit the elevator, asking the nurse to page Harry as soon as the patient wakes up. The doctor takes a deep breath as the chief pats him on the back. James is about to say something when he sees-

“Nicholas Tomlinson! What an honor!” James says in his loud, cheerful voice. One that is only used when he sees people he’s very fond of.

Shit.

“Uh, Sir, I gotta-”

“I go by Grimshaw now, James, and you know it.” Nick says as he walks fast in their direction, arms open to hug James as soon as he stops. “You look so handsome!”

“So do you, Mister.” James jokes as he kisses Nick on the cheek and ruffles his quiff.

“Not the hair, James!” He complains.

“Doctor Styles, have you-”

“Yes.” Harry replies.

“Oh.” James says, as if he’s just remembered something. _“Oh!”_

“Yes.” Harry says resigned, looking down. “May I be excused, Sir?”

“Ye- _yes_ , of course, Styles. Good work today. Please update the patient on the surgery as soon as you get paged.”

“Of course. Excuse me, Sir. N- hm, Doctor Grimshaw.” Harry nods and walks out of there as fast as he can without it looking like he’s running away from the doctors.

 

Harry turns corners not really paying attention to the people he’s crossing paths with. He somewhat hears Perrie calling his name and a nurse asking him if he’s done with rounds. In the back of his mind, Harry even knows he has a post-op patient to check in with and that he’ll have to report to James. But right now Harry doesn’t care about any of that.

Right now Harry needs to find a corner and cry; because he’s endured too much. He stood up during an entire surgery – not a very long one, but still – without crying or thinking about what had just happened, and he was a good doctor and a good student.

Not for one second did he let Louis invade his thoughts. He didn’t let him cloud his mind with how gorgeous he looks and how well his body rocks into Harry’s. He didn’t let _himself_ remember that this is all over, because it shouldn’t have begun in the first place, but, worst of all, because Louis is _married_ . He is married to another _doctor_ , who just came into this hospital rightfully accusing Harry of being the one who _screwed his husband_.

 

Harry’s always been a bit asthmatic, and he’s scared shitless that he’s going to have an episode any minute now, because he can feel his heartbeat racing as he runs down the stairs and he’s a tiny bit lightheaded when somebody grabs his arm and shakes him back into reality.

“Harry!” Louis’ voice calls him demandingly and Harry comes to.

“Let me _go!_ ” He frees himself from Louis’ grip.

“Shit, Harry, WAIT,” Louis screams. “You look like a fucking lunatic.”

“Louis, I can’t breathe, let me _go_.” Harry says as he backs himself on the wall, his knuckles going white with how hard he’s holding the stair’s railing.

Harry can almost hear the air moving through his bronchioles like they’re some kind of weird instrument; it’s wheezing, really, squawky and worrisome, as if concrete is being poured into his airways.

He pats his scrub pockets for his inhaler, but they’re empty. Of course they are, he just came out of surgery, he didn’t take anything with him. _FUCK_.

The panic and lack of air drives to him start gasping, breathing as if the oxygen is being sucked from the air around him. He doesn’t even notice when he doubles over and then falls to his knees, one hand on the ground to support his weight. Through it all, Louis is the one on the ground with him. He focuses on his voice. Louis is saying something; he’s screaming his name, Harry _knows_ it. He wants to respond, he wants to explain this isn’t an anxiety attack, but an asthma one.

But he can’t. He can’t because as he tries to formulate words, he just gets worse, and then everything’s a blur. Till he blacks out.

 

-

 

“Don’t take the oxygen off him,” a rushed, low voice orders.

“But he’s already breathing normally,” someone else responds.

Harry can almost place them.

“You should go back to work, Doctor Tomlinson,” he thinks it’s Zayn who says it.

“’M not leaving till he wakes up.” Louis responds stubbornly, and the intern knows he won’t get rid of him until they talk.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry opens his eyes and blinks a few times until he adjusts himself to the bright light only hospitals offer. He’s not in a standard hospital room, though, and he isn’t in the ER either. Harry recognizes as it being the on call room, and doesn’t even have time to make sense of it as Doctor Malik walks towards him, disconnecting his body from the door.

“Styles, you okay there, buddy?” He asks.

“Y-yeah,” Harry whispers. “Thirsty.”

Promptly, Louis hands him a glass of water with a straw.

“I have a post-op, I-” he tries to sit up but Louis places a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lie down again. “Don’t touch me.” He sneers. Louis lets him go as if he’s just been burned by fire.

“Harry.” Louis pleads.

“I’m not even gonna pretend to understand what is going on here, and it’s none of my business,” the cardiothoracic doctor starts, “so I’mma leave now and let you two talk. You had an asthma attack, by the way, Doctor Styles.” Zayn turns to him. “Were you aware you had this condition?”

“Yes,” he responds, “I’d just come out of surgery, it’s why I didn’t have my inhaler with me.”

“You have a brand new one now,” Zayn offers. “As your physician, I’m giving you the rest of your shift off. Be ready to start again tomorrow.”

“T-thank you, but it’s not necessary, I’m feeling okay already.” Harry sits up again, and this time Louis doesn’t stop him. “I have charts to make and a post-op to check and-”

“Horan is taking care of it, Doctor Payne reassigned him.”

“Fuck.” Harry closes his eyes. _Liam’s going to kill me_ , he thinks. The resident hates when people mess with his schedule.

“He won’t.”  Louis speaks looking seriously at Harry. “Trust me.”

“What did you-”

“What I had to,” he says. “Thanks, Doctor Malik. I need a word with Harry now.” Louis says and somehow this is finite.

Harry even tries to alert Zayn with his eyes, beg him not to leave the two of them alone, but before he knows it, Doctor Malik is wishing him the best and mumbling something about having some real patients to see now.

When the door closes, Louis gets up and locks it, resting his back on the door for a few seconds before sighing and walking towards Harry’s bed again, sitting across from him.

“What a coward move,” Harry snorts. “It’s not because I can’t leave the room that I’ll talk to you, you know?”

“It’s okay,” Louis responds. “You just have to listen.” He says. Harry doesn’t speak; just waits. “I met Nick when we were still in college. Me at Dartmouth, him at Harvard; we met at one of those Ivy League events everyone pretends to hate but actually loves. He was so smart and such an asshole.” He chuckles. “His quiff almost hit the ceiling and I just had to tease him. Of course I wound up fucking him, too, but. I was quite the shit person back then.”

“Still are.” Harry gives his input. His attending doesn’t comment on it.

“At first Nick was a really good lay. And so was I. We lived in different places and rarely saw each other, both too fucking busy with med school to give anything else a second thought. You know how that is.” He takes a deep breath. “One day we talked instead of hooking up. And I really liked him? It was very surprising, I didn’t like many people in my early twenties. But Nick was- witty. I saw it coming from a mile away, and I still didn’t stop myself from falling for him. I was lucky. He fell for me too.

So he transferred. Everyone thought he was insane, because who the fuck leaves Harvard, right? I thought he was insane, too, but he- he was so sure of us. After we talked, he just packed up his things and showed up at my campus in the spring.”

Harry doesn’t want to know any of this, but he still can’t move as Louis tells his story. The attending looks down and smiles fondly, then looks at Harry again.

“We got into the same program, right here. Moved in together, became a proper couple. We got married the day after we became residents. James was our best man; he was very proud of us. _I_ was very proud of us. My mom couldn’t even believe her eyes, neither could my sisters. I had everything I’d ever wanted, how much luckier could I get?

Then the race began.”

“The race?” Harry finds himself in need of clarification.

“To be the best. I already knew I wanted to be a neuro surgeon, even after- after a few mistakes.” At that, Harry snorts again. Now Louis winces, but doesn’t comment. “We were tired all the time, but then again we’d always been tired, you know? Our intern years sucked, but- yeah. It was what it was. All of our friends moved to do their residencies somewhere else, but we decided to stay, for James.

In our last year, Nick got a job offer. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him, but- he’s probably the best plastic surgeon on East coast nowadays; he performs miracles, the bastard.”

The intern wants to say _so do you_ , but, not for the first time, he refrains from it.

“Anyways. We were tired, and Nick was offered a job back in New York. It felt natural to move. He’d changed his life for me before; I could do the same, right? Plus, New York was home- I’d be close to my family. Sounded like a great deal. So we went there. I owe Celine a lot. She’s- she’s the chief of New York’s best trauma center. She sort of continued James’ work with me: she got me the best patients, and I took part in the most difficult cases that that city had to offer. I was flying high. My career was amazing and, forgetting all modesty here, unheard of.”

“What happened, Louis?”

“We forgot we were married. Or- I forgot I was married, I don’t know. He blames me. I blame him. At the end of the day we were more in love with our jobs than with each other. But I still- I _cared_ for him, you know? He doesn’t believe me, but I think I did. I think part of me always will. He was important to me.

He was so important, and I was so sure we’d be together forever that when I got home one night I…  I was expecting anything but Nick in bed with another man.” Now Louis laughs, but there’s a bittersweet taste to it. “They weren’t even finished, is the thing. They were _actively_ fucking.

My husband was fucking our neighbor in our bed. And d’you wanna know what I did? I stood there; in utter shock, kind of numb. I stood there until one of them noticed I was standing there. The rest of the story is a blur.” He looks up, avoiding tears. “I remember Joe, the neighbor, leaving, and I remember throwing Nick out right after him, clothes and all. I remember it was raining and I remember Nick banging on the door repeatedly, but I just- I hated him _so much_ , Harry, that if I’d seen him I would’ve beat the shit out of him.

I get it, we weren’t the best couple anymore, but we were… Partners. He betrayed me and he betrayed our vows and that’s… Unforgettable.”

Louis takes a deep breath, and continues.

“Then I left. I told Celine I couldn’t stay there anymore, begged James for a position here and- and became the head of neuro where everything started. Worked like a maniac in the first month. Fucked men like they were nothing, too. Not my finest moment, trust me.” He smirks. “When the holidays came, my family expected me to go back to New York, but I just… Couldn’t. I was _so_ angry. Spent Christmas with James and on New Year’s Eve I…”

“Went to the bar.” Harry completes the sentence.

“I went to Oli’s, yeah.” Louis says. “I wasn’t looking for anything but tequila that night. But you were… You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life and I- I _needed_ to have you. You never let me say this, but I had _no idea_ of who you were, Harry. I didn’t know you were Harry Styles, and I certainly didn’t know you’d be my intern come morning light. I just… Wanted you.”

“But you’re still married.”

“No, Harry, I’ve been separated for over four months now. And if you’d let me _speak_ , you’d know Nick’s here with divorce papers.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re still Louis Tomlinson- my boss, also the guy who- I mean.” Harry raises both eyebrows, clearly in distress, but tries to control his voice and his heartbeats. “How do you expect me to react _now_?” He laughs with no humor to it.

“I don’t know. _Honestly_ , I _don’t_ know. I just didn’t want you to think that Nick had the right to talk to you like that. Even if he’s a jealous bastard now… He doesn’t have a claim on me or something. I don’t _owe_ him anything. We’re signing divorce papers later this week and that’s it.”

“Okay. Now I know. Thanks for clarifying. And just so we’re clear…” Harry starts. “You don’t owe _me_ anything either. We are _nothing_ , Louis. And I don’t appreciate you going around telling people you’re screwing me. If our arrangement isn’t satisfactory enough for you, then end it. But don’t spread lies.”

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Well, how the fuck did he know then?”

“Don’t know Harry, the only person I told about you was my _sister_ , and she’s still friends with him.”

“You told your _sister_ about me?” Harry asks outraged. “Louis, I am _not_ your fucking high school boyfriend.”

“I _know_ that, okay? You’ve made it _so fucking clear_ , Harry. Crystal, really. But are you gonna sit there and judge me and tell me you never told _anyone_ about us? Really?” He crosses his arms.

Well, fuck.

“Niall knows.”

Louis… Louis _laughs_.

“That’s rich! You give _me_ shit for telling my sister about our _arrangement_ , but you’ve told someone who _works_ for me about- forget it.” He gets up. “Go home, get better, Harry.”

He’s almost closing the door when Harry murmurs a quiet _thank you_. He doesn’t care much whether Louis heard it or not.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hi, Duda.)


	7. GRAVITY

 

Because Harry’s life is one big fucking joke, a week after Nicholas Grimshaw starts working at the hospital, his mother, Anne Styles, resolves to show up to perform a groundbreaking surgery in the United States. It’s not like Anne needs those, but Harry needs to admit that the fact that she doesn’t and keeps going after them anyways is what makes her so damn good and acknowledged almost worldwide.

There’s a lady that has just come back from war and has been at the hospital for five days now. Liam performed emergency surgeries on her, but she still has a long way to go when it comes to recovering, especially because she’s thin, so thin that there’s not enough skin to close her abdomen.

This lady also has an adopted son waiting for her to go back home - home being freaking Afghanistan. And she was restless, because, in her words, no one could help her - nevermind that they kept her alive under impossible circumstances. So James made an executive decision: he called Anne here.

Of course he _didn’t_ have to consult with Harry, he doesn’t owe him anything personally, and definitely not in their work environment where he is nothing more than Harry’s chief. Still, a little bit of a warning would’ve been nice, otherwise he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

 

“So, I hear you’re assisting me today.” He kind of smells her before he hears her voice, and he hears her voice before he turns around and looks at her.

“Mom?” He opens his mouth, surprised.

“Oh. My. God.” Perrie whispers over excitedly by his side.

“Hello, Harry. I hope you’ve been studying a lot, I’m going to keep you on your toes.”

“I… What?”

“You’re on Doctor Payne’s services today, aren’t you? Therefore you are on mine.”

“No- I…” _Fuck._

 _“_ And who might this be…?” Anne looks at the girl by his side.

“Perrie Edwards, Doctor Styles. Huge fan.”

“Hm.” His mom simply hums. Bitch. “Thank you, darling.” All right. “I’ll be in James’ office for a while, need to respond to some emails and he offered me his computer. Please be on time for your surgery, Doctor Styles. I look forward to seeing what you’re capable of.”

And, with that, she exits the on call room, where Harry was so peacefully trying to nap.

“Holy shit,” Perrie whispers. “You’re operating with your mother.”

 _No way in hell_ , he thinks.

Harry starts running before he realizes what he is doing. He bumps on Ed on his way to find Liam, and he barely has time to say _sorry, bro_ before he goes off again. While he’s at it, he rapidly thinks of what he is going to tell his resident, after all, Harry is very far from being Liam’s favorite person in the world; actually, if Liam has a list of _Least Favorite People in the World_ , then Harry’s fairly sure he’s on that one.

But he needs to try. He can’t operate with his mom. And it’s not because Harry doesn’t feel confident in his abilities, he _does._ He’s been told by more than one resident - and even a couple of attendings - that he is an outstanding intern, and that he’s already very skilled, even with little experience. Everyone around here has high hopes for Harry Styles, and honestly, so does he. However, it is scientifically proven that it is rather difficult to thrive in a hostile environment, and, for him, there is nothing more hostile than his own mother.

Harry believes he loves Anne. He doesn’t think it’s one of those love and hate things, he just believes some people are easier to love from afar, and he has concluded, after many years, that his mother is one of those people. If _she_ loves _him_ , then he’s not really sure, but… It is what it is.

 

He finds Liam when he’s talking to Zayn, and, like, Harry really doesn’t want to interrupt that moment. If their skinny love is anything to go by, those two are dumber than one could imagine when it comes to relationships, so they need all the alone time they can get. It is also scientifically proven that the higher someone’s IQ is, the lower their EQ is - EQ standing for Emotional Quotient while IQ means Intelligence Quotient. That actually explains a lot, them being two of the smartest people Harry has ever met and all that.

 

Harry clears his throat twice, already regretting the decision when Liam’s eyes perforate his.

“What can I do for you, Styles?” Liam asks.

“A lot, actually, Doctor Payne.” Harry approaches. Zayn frowns his eyebrows. “As you may have heard, my mother is in the hospital…” He starts.

“Anne’s here?” The heart surgeon asks in wonder.

Harry nods.

“Awesome.” He comments.

“And I’m on your service today,” Harry continues, paying the attending no mind for now. “Which means I’m on _her_ service too.”

“Okay…” Liam nods. “Is there a question there?”

“Could I maybe be excused from your service today? I really don’t want to work with my mother.”

“You wanna pass up a chance of operating with Anne Styles?” His resident snorts. “Are you actually that stupid or are you just trying to piss me off a bit more?”

“To me, she is not a world renowned doctor, she is my mother. And she makes me uncomfortable.” He finishes.

“So I should just excuse you for the day?”

“No,” he swallows hard, “I can work with literally anyone else.”

“Doctor Styles, I am not changing your schedule and, consequently, everyone else’s because you’ve got mommy issues. Man up and go prepare for your surgery.” Liam orders.

Harry’s about to walk away when Zayn places a hand on his shoulder.

“Doctor Payne, I remember you being a lot nicer than this.” Zayn says. “It’s one of the things that set you apart from the other residents in the past, and it’s why I voted for you to be chief resident- you were smart, competent and still… Nice.”

“Sir, I- respectfully, I have my own reasons not to grant Doctor Styles his wishes.”

“C’mon, Liam, he screwed Tomlinson, he did not commit treason to his country.” Zayn finally rolls his eyes, making both Harry and Liam almost gag on air.

“How’d you-“ Harry starts asking.

“I know everything.” He shrugs. “Took me two seconds to put it together after Doctor Tomlinson almost lost his wits when you passed out. And, honestly, oldest story in the world. You’re both hot and supposedly hate each other: of course you’re screwing.” Doctor Malik raises an eyebrow, as if he’s very clever for making a point. “His sex life has nothing to do with you, Doctor Payne, and everyone fucks everyone in this hospital anyways. Let it go.”

Harry holds his breath at the same time Liam sighs a bit angrily. He looks down to his iPad, and then speaks up.

“Fine, you’re swapping with Perrie today.” He speaks, then smirks. “It means you’re on Doctor Grimshaw’s service. Enjoy your shift and don’t come find me unless you’re dying. If you actually die before you find me, please do not haunt me. I’m a good man, I just like playing by the rules.”

Harry actually chuckles at that, but then Liam’s already walking down the hall.

“Why are you defending me?” He asks Zayn, genuinely curious.

“I was an intern once.” The surgeon smirks. “Also, I meant what I said: sex isn’t illegal and you’re both consenting adults for fuck’s sake. Liam needs to loosen up.”

Harry is dying to make a joke about Zayn wanting to loosen Liam up, but refrains from it; they’re not there yet.

“Thanks. Again.”

“No problem,” he tilts his head. “Good luck with Grimshaw. I’ve heard he’s a prick.”

“So is Louis,” Harry chuckles. “Which is probably why they got married in the first place.” He comments, not being able to bite his tongue.

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know that?”

“Not… Really. Shit.”

“Yeah. Louis and I are nothing anymore. Whatever… Deal we had. It’s over.” Harry explains.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I have to tell _someone.”_ He speaks up. “But I guess… Not you? I’m sorry, Doctor Malik. I’ll be on my way now…” Harry moves again.

“No need to apologize. I’m here if you need me.” Zayn says, pauses for a few seconds and then speaks again. “Please, try to not need me much. I’m still your superior.” There’s still a hint of a smile on his face.

“Thanks,” Harry smiles too and walks away for good this time.

 

-

 

When Harry goes to find Nick, the doctor is in the pit, dealing with an emergency case. Harry doesn’t really know what to call him in his mind, and it’s hard for him to accept Nick Grimshaw as his _attending_ , because from what he understands, Nick hasn’t actually been hired. He’s only here for a while.

For a while, Harry can deal with him.

“Styles, thanks for joining me in this lovely evening…” He smiles. How can his quiff be so… Tall?

“Sorry for being late, there was a… Change in schedule. I was trying to find you.”

“No problem, no problem. Meet Jessica here,” he signals to the woman, “Jessica, meet Doctor Styles.”

“Is he… You know?” She murmurs a question.

“Is he what? Straight?” Nick snorts. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jessica looks up. “Still very embarrassed that you both have to see me.”

“What- what am I missing here?” Harry asks.

“Look at the monitor, Doctor Styles.” Nick orders.

Harry walks around the gurney and stands by Nick’s side, looking where the doctor is pointing. Slowly, Harry comes to realize what that shape in the monitor is… Definitely not a baby. He turns around and looks at the patient’s belly once again, where he finds a bloody spot and many gauze pads covering it up. She doesn’t look like she’s in pain, so whatever is dripping into her veins right now, must be filled with morphine.

“Is that… Is that a _gun_ inside of you?” He asks. He needs to check because that’s incredibly unbelievable.

“Yes.” She closes her eyes.

“But how…” He starts asking another question, and then Doctor Grimshaw lifts the sheet. Her legs are spread out on the bed, and when Harry sees it, he has a hard time controlling his facial expression. “Through your vagina.” He says in awe. “You’re a plastic surgeon.” Harry turns to Nick.

“Correct.” He answers even though Harry made an affirmation.

“So what are we-”

“Trauma’s waiting for her in the OR. They’re going to safely remove the gun and then we’ll go in there,” he points under the sheet, “and rebuild her vagina from the inside out.”

 _Do not gag, do not gag, do not gag_ , he keeps telling himself.

“And why is she bleeding?” Harry makes another question.

“I believe you have a chart, Doctor Styles. Freaking read it on your way to the OR.” Doctor Grimshaw responds, a bit annoyed. Harry can understand, he should’ve updated himself on the patient when coming here, so he simply nods and pulls it up on his iPad. “We’re moving,” Nick warns, and then starts walking. Harry follows.

 

Jessica Stones, twenty seven years old, inserted a gun in her vaginal canal, in order to smuggle it into her boyfriend’s jail. _“At least if I get arrested now we can be together”_ she said, according to one of the nurses. But the most unbelievable part happened at the hospital.

When she got here, in a lot of pain, the woman couldn’t stop moving since she was hurting so much, and she wound up firing the gun from inside herself, and it hit a hypochondriac patient in the ER. Harry does his best not to laugh, especially when Niall texts him that he is the one stuck with the old man. _It’s not even a fucking amputation case_ , his friend complains. Harry chuckles and then proceeds to scrub in.

He and Nick watch as the trauma surgeon removes the gun from inside the girl - since Liam is busy in another surgery… With Anne -, and it doesn’t even take too long. Nick actually assists the doctor, being an attending and all, having performed more general surgeries than Harry, for sure, but the intern still likes to watch and learn.

The plastic surgeon and the trauma one actually seem pretty friendly, and their dynamic is nice to watch. Harry has never met Doctor Ora before, their shifts never really aligning, but her reputation precedes her. She’s fast and focused and still pleasant, all at the same time.

“Did she really fire the gun from inside her belly?” She asks, for the third time, and the room erupts in laughter. The very sound of her voice lifts the mood.

“She did,” Harry answers, since this time she asked him.

“And she put it through her vagina?”

“Correct,” he says.

“Gonna let him help you rebuild it, Grimmy?” Doctor Ora raises an eyebrow.

“I’m curious to know what he’s made of,” Nick smiles. “Plus, I need all the help I can get with _gungina_ here.”

Harry can’t help but laugh very hard; he even turns away from the table. No matter how much he tries, he really can’t help but  like Nick. Which is why he also kind of hates him.

The thing about him is that he is perfect. He’s the right amount of smart and funny, cocky and humble, fancy-looking and yet completely approachable. He has a good body and amazing hair and even his accent is cool. (Does he have British family? He sounds a bit British, Harry thinks.)

And Nick has never been anything but nice to Harry. Sure, he accused him of _being the man who was screwing his husband_ , but then again Harry is- no, _was_ the man who screwed his husband, so he can’t say much about that. Plus, this entire week, he’s said all the greetings he was supposed to, and even if this is the first time they’re working together, Doctor Grimshaw is somewhat making him comfortable.

So much that Harry can understand why he and Louis got married in the first place: they might both be pricks, but they’re also fucking amazing. And that’s as confusing as it is infuriating, because Harry cannot be here thinking about how amazing they are; especially not how amazing Louis is. In fact, he’s been avoiding him like the plague, and as if the angels have heard him, Louis has stayed away.

Laughter pulls him out of his trance, and he starts paying attention to the conversation again, just in time to reply to the trauma surgeon when she asks him if he wants to finish her stitches for her.

 

“You’re doing really great,” she says. “Ever thought about becoming a trauma surgeon?”

“I’m a first year.” Is what he answers.

“C’mon, we all _start_ med school with a dream in mind…” Nick says playfully.

“Uh. I’ve always wanted to be a brain surgeon.” He tells them in a low voice, really focused on what he is doing. Nick’s right by his side and his stitches are fucking perfect (being a plastic surgeon and all that), so Harry doesn’t want to fuck this up and leave the woman with a scar.

“That makes sense,” Doctor Grimshaw comments. “With all the private classes Louis has been giving you and all…”

“Grimmy.” Doctor Ora calls him by his nickname, but with a different tone now.

“C’mon, Rita, it’s just a bit of banter.” He dismisses it. “I’ve lost my husband to a hot piece of ass who also happens to be an amazing doctor, let me drown in self pity _and_ make jokes at the same time.”

“Thanks for the compliments, but I really didn’t know he was married.”

“He’s told me that, Harry,” Nick smiles at him sideways, “you’re completely in the clear here.” Nick tells him, already changing positions and getting between the woman’s legs.

“Did he also tell you that we met before I even knew he was my boss? Because, you know, that’s relevant. I don’t want Doctor Ora thinking I slept with an attending for special treatment, since we’re, you know, discussing our private lives in an OR.” As he says it, he stops and looks around, apologizing with his eyes to the poor scrub nurses and anesthesiologist, who have nothing to do with this moment here.

“Please, if anything, he’s probably being harder with you than with other interns.” Doctor Ora chuckles.

“Rita’s right.” Doctor Grimshaw confirms without looking up.

“Louis and I went to med school together, and we’ve worked together before too.” She explains to Harry. “That man can be a pain in the ass, and he would outlive God just to have the last word… But he’s fair. I’ve never met a more just person than him.” The doctor says seriously.

“She’s right about that too.” Nick looks at him now. “Whoever’s worried you got special treatment clearly doesn’t know Louis.”

“I- okay.” Harry accepts. “I’m almost done here. Can we change topics?”

“Oh, we must, dear Styles!” Doctor Ora clasps her hands. “Just come here and assist your attending, I need to scrub out, apparently there’s a mom in labor in the ER because she’s just been in a car accident.”

“More vaginas for you,” Nick jokes.

“Ugh, I know. Want in?” The woman jokes back.

“Nope. Don’t wanna see any more lady parts than I have to.” He responds and Rita Ora chuckles. “Comer here, Doctor Styles, I could actually use some help.”

 

They don’t work in silence, and to be completely honest, Nick is an amazing teacher. He talks Harry through the whole process of the surgery, and even risks letting him doing some complicated things for an intern. He says that where he comes from, NYC, the interns have a bit more power than they do here, and he thinks Harry’s ready for something like that.

They talk about this procedure and some others, when Harry feels comfortable. The whole surgery takes hours and hours, the skin being too soft and difficult to handle, but when they’re done, the work is objectively beautiful… For a vagina, Harry thinks.

Nick doesn’t let him finish _these_ stitches, but he can completely understand why. He still stays in, though. Drinks some water and watches the surgeon work. He even tries to imitate him with his own hands in the air, and makes a mental note to ask the doctor for help when he has a bit of a free time. Harry’s always had in mind that he wanted to be the type of surgeon who left minimum damage internally and externally on a patient.

 

Once they’re out and the nurses are taking Jessica up to her room, Nick asks Harry to stay behind, so he patiently walks towards the attending.

“I made some stupid jokes in there, and you took them graciously,” he comments. “Is that because I’m your attending?”

“Partly,” Harry crosses his arms. “Also because I’m always a  bit gracious.” He smiles.

“That you are, Doctor Styles.” Nick smiles too. “I can see what he sees in you, you know?” He asks.

“Doctor Grimshaw, we’re not- that’s not… Happening anymore.” He clarifies _again_. It seems as though all Harry does these days is clarify things related to him and Louis.

“It’s okay if it does. We’re separated, so Louis is fair play,” he chuckles. “Even though I’m losing by miles and miles.”

“I’m not competing.”

“You don’t even have to.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Nick nods. “I’m a mess, and I’m in hell, but I’m not wrong about him. You’re not just a lay to him. Don’t think you ever were.” Harry wants to say _too bad, then_ , but nothing comes out of his mouth. “Pleasure working with you, Doctor Styles. See you around.” The doctor winks, then walks away.

 

-

 

Harry showers after surgery because he has a window there before he needs to make it to the skills lab, where James Corden is going to teach them a class on God knows what, but when he’s leaving the room he bumps into Ed again and decides to have some dinner with him, since it’s already nine thirty p.m. and he doesn’t even remember the last time he ate.

“Good day?” Harry asks him.

“Yeah, actually…” Ed replies excitedly. “I got to work with triplets, and those are always fun.” He smiles.

Ed goes on and on about kids and how awesome they are, and Harry can’t help but wonder what it’d be like if he had been raised _right._ He just can’t, for the life of him, imagine himself taking care of babies and raising children to be actual, functional human beings, and to be honest he doesn’t think doctors are cut out to be parents. But, once again, Ed mentions how mad he is to get to this part of his life as soon as possible.

A bit uncomfortable with the topic, Harry asks again about the surgery, and it hits him that, in a way, Ed Sheeran is also his superior, but he doesn’t act like it. He feels more like a friend when they’re talking, like an _equal_ , and only when inside the OR, does he act as he fifth year resident that he is.

“So, when are you gonna be on my service again?” He asks.

“I think… Tomorrow, actually. Niall and I are going to be in peds. Got something fun for us?” Harry smiles.

“I’ll find something, I’m sure.” Ed smirks, then his eyes widen, and Harry doesn’t have to wait to find out why.

“Hi, Harry.” His mother says.

What is it with this woman and always showing up _literally_ behind his back?

“Mother.” He turns his body only halfway to look at her.

“A word?”

“Only one?”

“A few.” She concedes, and tilts her head sideways for better effect. “If your friend excuses us, of course.”

“Yes, surely, Doctor Styles. I’m Doctor Sheeran, Ed. Uh, peds. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Clumsy with his words, Ed gets up to greet Harry’s mother.

“She’s just a surgeon, not the fucking queen of England.” Harry rolls his eyes.

Anne clears her throat, and if looks could kill, Harry would be on the ground right now. Good thing they can’t.

“I’ll… See you around, H.” Ed pats him on the back before leaving.

“All your friends seem to like me,” Anne comments.

“They don’t know you,” Harry snorts. His mother sits across from him. “How was the surgery?”

“Impeccable, of course. Might get another award for it.”

“Of course.”

“You asked Liam Payne to be off his services today. Why?” She questions him. Everything feels like an interrogation with her. They’re never just having a normal conversation.

“You make me nervous.” He states.

“I wanted to see your abilities.”

“You wanted to see me fail, and then tell me what a mistake it was for me to go to med school in the first place. Mom, I know the drill.” He does. He truly, really does. She used to pull the same crap when he was in college, so of course she’d freaking do it here.

“Doctor Grimshaw says you did good in the OR with him. James keeps on praising you. I really wanted to see it for myself.” Anne speaks.

“Like I said, you make me nervous.” He repeats.

“So we’re never operating together, is that what you’re saying?”

“Not until I’m an attending and can kick you out of my OR if you piss me off,” Harry smirks.

“Well then. We’ll see.”  Anne stands up and Harry does the same. “I am leaving around lunchtime tomorrow. Maybe we could grab some breakfast? And you can update me on your personal life?” She asks. It’s a trap.

“I’m a Doctor. An intern, no less. I don’t have a personal life.” He looks up at her.

Condescendingly, Anne pats his cheeks.

“Good boy.” She says, a tight smile on her lips.

“I got skills lab.” He gets up. “Don’t call me.” Harry says, simply for effect, but the answer comes quickly.

“You know I won’t.”

_Yeah. You didn’t call me on my birthday._

 

-

 

Skills lab is the last thing on this stressful day. Technically, he is off the clock already, his shift is over, but he needs extra hours anyways, and his OR hours are kind of shit this week, with everything going on, so he makes himself endure a forty minute class. He won’t die.

James talks about kidney transplants, and how he once performed a “domino surgery” - which is basically one donates to the other, who donates to the other, and so on and so forth - and how brilliant it went; he tells them what he did to keep himself on the clock and the stitches he used. Quickly, Harry notices they were the same ones Doctor Ora had him do earlier today, so when everyone starts practicing, he feels like he has a head start on them.

He even has time to make conversation with Niall.

“What are you doing after we leave here?” His friend looks tired, but if these past months have taught Harry anything, it’s that where there’s a Niall, there’s a party.

“Going home, sleeping with the dead. Why?”

“Some nurses invited me for a drink, thought you’d like to accompany me, I know today was hard for you.” Niall tells him.

“A while ago I would’ve picked alcohol over sleep, but tonight I kinda just need my bed.” Harry says. “Thank you, though. We’ll go out on the weekend, yeah? We’re both off on Sunday, we can finally have a Saturday out.”

“That’ll be good, Hazza.” Niall smiles.

“Now focus on your stitches cause they kinda look like shit.” He offers.

“Yours too,” the other intern checks.

“Nah. Mine look like _the_ shit. There’s a difference,” Harry opens a big grin when he speaks, and then goes back to finishing his work.

When the forty minutes are up, James excuses them, but says the lab is at their disposal if they want to keep training.

Niall leaves right away and so do twelve other people, but Harry and a few more stay. He wants to practice the stitches Nicholas Grimshaw did earlier, and since he kind of told him the theory, Harry thinks he can do it from memory.

He doesn’t even know what he is doing here. He’s definitely sleepy, and he was being truthful when he told Niall that he really needed his bed tonight.

Slowly, the lab empties until he’s the last one here. He hears the door closing and thinks the last person - a girl from ortho - has finally left him alone and at peace, but when he raises his head, Louis is there, staring at him.

“The trick is to use your left hand,” the attending speaks.

“I’m right handed."

“Nick isn’t. No one but me does it as well as he does, _because he’s left handed_. And he taught me how to use my left hand. I can teach you too, if you want.” It’s a peace offering, but Harry really isn’t up for that. Not today.

“Not tonight.” He drops the instruments.

“Are you all right, H?”

Harry looks at him and snorts.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No. I’m actually asking.” Louis walks around the table and stops by his side. “Your mother was here and you worked with my ex husband. You must be beat.”

“I am. And you might be separated, but he’s still your husband.”

Louis smiles with his mouth shut and blinks slowly, his eyelashes making a show of shadowing his upper cheeks as he bats them a couple of times.

“I wasn’t out all day hiding from Anne Styles, Harry. I was consulting with my lawyer, dividing properties, signing the divorce papers Nick showed up here with.” Louis closes his eyes, sighs. He looks exhausted too. “He’ll sign them over the week, consult with his lawyer, and then we’ll be done.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Louis carefully, almost softly really, places one hand by the side of Harry’s face, gets impossibly closer. “I’m not going to stay here and glorify or romanticize heartbreak. For me, getting out of New York and starting anew here was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living. But I’ve healed.” The older man confesses. “I’m a single man, Harry. Have been for a while now. I’ve _told_ you that.”

“It-” Harry takes a deep breath. “I doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Louis is a breath away, and it’s impossible for Harry not to close the distance between them. He grabs Louis by the waist and their bodies connect before their mouths do, but when their tongues finally meet it’s like this entire day is melting away and everything that Harry went through resulted in this moment here.

He closes his eyes and lets passion take control. He lets Louis kiss him the way he likes to be kissed, and he kisses back the way he knows gets Louis just right. After spending almost twenty four hours denying to everyone that they had anything, here’s Harry, once again, making out with him.

And it always feels more. Each time after “the last time” it gets bigger, somehow. Their kisses are slower and their hands linger longer on the other’s body and their want and their need magnify in such a dangerous way that Harry cannot explain.

This has never happened, and this can’t be happening right now. It just- _can’t._

Like he’s been burned, Harry pushes Louis away.

“It doesn’t.” Even if it’s with zero conviction, he still says it. And this time, he is the one who walks away.

 

 


	8. CALL ME HOPELESS, BUT NOT ROMANTIC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your support so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> All the love <3

When Harry makes it to Louis’ service again, it is because the neurosurgeon is promoting a competition. All the interns arrive at four a.m. in the hospital, and both James and Louis are already there, on the stairs, looking down on them with mystery smiles on their faces. Harry just wants to sleep. He’s never drinking on a work night with Jade again.

The woman is just as bad by his side, whining and yawning and hiding her face behind his back, barely paying attention to what the attending and the chief are saying. Harry knows there is  a challenge, and that it’ll last the entire week. They have to find an unusual case within a current one, and James suggests that the best place to do it is the ER.

Many interns think they are being misled, that the chief is joking with them, so they run up to their residents and ask them to change schedules, whilst Harry trusts the man, and happily accepts his ER shift today. He just hopes and prays that there aren’t any surgeries for him to perform in the next three hours… He needs to recover.

 

People are really fucking stupid for drunk driving, cause that’s generally what gets them into the ER in the first place. Even though it’s basically a  _ sin _ for him to think that, Harry is kind of glad it’s mostly an ortho problem, and Caroline Flack - the ortho attending - isn’t really his biggest fan; he has no idea why.

So Caroline excuses him and grabs Jesy and some other guy who isn’t from Harry’s group, and sends him to find Liam. When Harry’s returning to the pit, he finds Rita Ora, and he’s about to say  _ hi _ , when the woman talks to him faster than he’s heard her speak before.

“Harry! Good. I did an ablation on Marnie's baby at 18 weeks,” she says as she points to the woman behind her. “To be safe, I want to be there when she's born, but the labor's protract. Will you monitor her closely and keep me posted? I have so much work to do.”

"Uh, did we have to skip the epidural?” He frowns at the screaming woman. Harry really doesn’t like women in labor. 

”She had one during her last delivery, but her BP dropped so low that she almost arrested. So that's not an option, I’m afraid.” Doctor Ora says as she pulls him into the room.

Harry nods at Marnie. Marnie screams. 

"And Pitocin…?" He suggests, scanning his mind for something else. Nothing.

"Severely allergic.” The attending doesn’t even pretend she’s sorry. Evil, evil sense of humor.

"So..."

"So, this is your day.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Lemme know when she's 8 centimeters.” Rita Ora smiles.

“Thanks,” he chuckles as the door closes. “Hey, Marnie. We’re going to be good friends. I’m Doctor Styles and I’m with you today.”

“Just hold my hand and put on your earplugs.” The woman manages to say.

Harry laughs again.

“That’s all right. If we talk, chances are you’re going to feel better…” Harry offers.

 

He knows he should be more in the game; Harry should be more excited about this challenge, because it will get him the chance to scrub in a brain surgery again. However, he is a bit skeptical in his abilities. So for the rest of the day, he takes care of the pregnant lady and he even helps Rita deliver the baby in the afternoon.

He asks her why a trauma surgeon deals with so many pregnant women, and finds out she’s also an OBGYN, and she’s working two positions at the moment because there is no one to cover for her. Apparently, the last OBGYN left for Los Angeles a while ago, and James hasn’t found anyone to put in her place.

Harry decides he likes Rita Ora a lot. Last time he worked with her was amazing, but now that he is actually on her service, it makes him glad to be at work. They get through no-drugs pregnant lady together, and then he stays by her side throughout an entire day.

Niall bugs him the entire day to try and help with his possible medical mystery, but Harry can’t find anything different with his case, so he refocuses on what he is doing.

 

“STYLES, IN HERE,” Doctor Ora screams him when he’s just about to leave.

“Thirty four year old male, bitten by a bear on the side of the road,” the medic says frantically as she rolls his gurney inside with the help of the nurses and Harry. “His BP is a hundred and forty over ninety and he is conscious.”

“All right, thanks, we’ll take it from here,” Harry answers quickly as he closes the  trauma curtain behind him, where Doctor Ora is already ready to start working on him.

“Sir, I’m Doctor Ora, this is Doctor Styles and we’ll take care of you tonight.” The woman says quickly and then starts giving Harry instructions.

Everything happens fast, but that’s just the way things are down in trauma. To be completely honest, Harry doesn’t think he is cut out for this, but he keeps working on the man’s bleeding face while Rita assesses his broken hand, saying that they’ll have to page ortho for this.

 

“THERE HE IS!” A big man exclaims as he opens the curtain. “DAVID, YOU ASSHOLE.”

“Oh my God, Dave, you all right?” A blonde woman sounds worried. She looks hurt too.

“STYLES,” Ora calls his name.

“Sorry, you can’t be in here for this…” He speaks as he takes both of them out of the room.

The big man is Dave’s brother, while the woman is his  _ wife _ , apparently. Brother and wife do not see eye to eye, and the man is so pissed off that Harry convinces him to go down to the cafeteria, and then takes the wife to the clinic, where he intends to take care of her.

Her name is Blake and she is twenty nine. Harry hates judging people, but he really doesn’t think she belongs with them. Dave and his brother seem to be rich, somehow, and there’s something about this woman that doesn’t fit their personalities. Maybe this is why the brother doesn’t like her, because Dave married a poor woman. In that case, fuck the brother. But, still, Harry  _ sees  _ the difference between them - even in the way they speak.

 

“A man like him married to a woman like me…” Blake says. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m sorry. I must look like a crazy person,” she looks down.

Harry’ softens his expression.

“It’s fine… But it looks like you’ve got some bleeding there, mind if I take a look?” He asks, putting on new gloves.

“No, I’m okay,” Blake responds as she takes off her beanie.

Harry tries not to react when her head actually  _ opens  _ in front of him, because the skin of her scalp is loose, and it falls onto her forehead.

“Please, sit down, I’m going to call someone and order you a CT.” He says. “Please, please don’t move.”

 

Harry pages the trauma attending and his resident, but the nurse says Doctor Payne is in another surgery at the moment and can’t come. So like some kind of superhero, Rita Ora shows up running and signs off on the CT, waiting impatiently with Harry for the results.

“How’s Dave?” Harry murmurs the question.

“Doctor Flack took him to surgery, his brother called the rest of the family, everyone’s on their way.”

“Good.”

“We got the results…” Rita looks down on her iPad. “CT is clear. I’ll have to repair the galea, but it should reattach without a problem… C’mon, give her the news.”

 

They enter the room again and tell the girl that everything’s all right.

Instinctively, Blake raises a hand to her head.

“I didn’t… Feel.”

“Adrenaline is a very powerful drug.” Harry offers with a smile.

“Ok, Blake, squeeze my fingers,” Doctor Ora shows her two fingers and the woman squeezes them. “Watch her, and page me if any neuro deficits appear.” She orders; Harry nods, but still follows her out of the room. “What, Styles?” The attending asks when Harry closes the door behind them, resting a hand on the door and the other on her waist.

“How long has it been since you last slept?” He frowns.

“I have no idea.” She sighs. “Say it, Harry.”

“I think this is bigger than a broken hand… Dave’s case, I mean. He provoked a bear and then drove himself to the hospital.” Harry explains, hoping she’ll follow his line of thinking.

“He was in shock. Like you said, adrenaline is a powerful drug.”

“And he married his rebound girl.” He completes.

“What?” Rita almost laughs.

“He married his  _ rebound girl _ , after knowing her for only ten days. Nobody does that. Who does that? I’m thinking brain tumor.” Doctor Styles smiles.

This time, Rita Ora full on laughs.

“I’m gonna walk away because I don’t wanna watch you embarrass yourself just to talk to Tommo again,” the woman says jokingly. “I need some sleep.”

 

-

 

Blake doesn’t seem to have any sort of neuro damages, and Niall discharges her a few hours later, when Harry’s already off the clock. He doesn’t go home. Instead, he goes to the cafeteria to get some liquid energy before he makes his way to Dave’s room again.

Harry’s tired and he’s acting against his attending’s orders, but he just… He  _ needs _ to know. 

“What are you doing here, mate?” Niall asks Harry when he sees him entering Dave’s room.

“I need to check something.” He tells him. His friend looks skeptical, so Harry gives him what he wants. “Dave might be a medical mystery.” 

“Shit, really?”

“Let me in, Niall.”

The blonde one opens the door with a smile on his face, but there is hell going on inside the patient’s room.

 

“YOU TOUCHED A CUB, MAN. WHAT THE HELL?” The man who Harry believes is his father is screaming.

“I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.” He says.

“So… Touching the cub, you knew better?” Harry checks.

“Course he knew better, he’s having an early mid life crisis. He’s gonna kill us all.” Dave’s brother sneers.

“I’m not.”

“Dude, you married your mid life crisis.” The brother says back.

Blake finches and Niall is about to go on her defense - bless him - when Dave talks straight with Harry.

“Something tells me you’re not just worried about the damage to my hand.”

“Dave,” he starts, “earlier today you were squinting at your paperwork and your handwriting wasn’t very legible,” Harry looks down on his chart. “Is that normal for you?” Dave nods. “All right. Then humor me. Look straight ahead, tell me when you see my fingers.”

The room goes silent and Harry places two fingers on each side of Dave’s head. He starts from his ears and brings them to the front of his face, but only when they’re right in front of his eyes the man sees it. Which means…

“TUMOR!” Harry claps his hands in celebration. “Sorry.” He says alarmed with his own reaction.

“I have a tumor?”

“What are you saying, Doctor?” His father interferes.

“You knew better…” Harry starts explaining, staring at the patient. “You touched the cub and that, along with your other symptoms… Brain tumors have been known to change behaviors. Prompt spontaneity, impulsivity…”

“He married a trashy waitress, right? That’s what you mean. That he married a woman like me.” Blake snorts, crossing her arms. She looks wounded.

Harry kind of hates himself right now.

“I’m just saying I’d like to have an MRI. Just to be sure.” Harry says. “Excuse us.”

He exits the room and brings Niall with him.

“Man, what the fuck?”

“Is Doctor Tomlinson in?” He asks Niall.

“Haven’t seen him…” His friend replies.

“Take him to the MRI, then show him the scans…”

“But… You’re the one who found it out.”

“I don’t want to… Deal with him.”

“Don’t screw your medical career because you’re hot for your married attending, Harry.” Niall tells him.

Harry could reply with a lot of things. He could say Louis isn’t married anymore, or that he isn’t  _ hot _ for him. He could even tell him that he was acting against Rita Ora’s orders.

But, in the end, he chooses to go with:

“I’m not ruining my career. I’m trying to help you with yours.” He chuckles. “You can tell him we both found this together. I just- please?”

“I have a surgery right now. But I’ll show it to Doctor Tomlinson as soon as I find him.” Niall assures him.

“Thanks, Ni.” Harry hugs him. “I’ll get some sleep now.”

 

-

 

Harry enters the on call room and falls asleep immediately; he has a dreamless sleep, he doesn’t even toss and turn in bed. It feels like he’s slept for ages when somebody starts calling his name. Harry really doesn’t want to open his eyes, but when he finally does it, he does it slowly, blinking many times to adjust them to the darkness of the room. He has no idea of what time it is.

“Fucking finally,” Louis says impatiently, sitting on the mattress by Harry’s side.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks in his barely awake state.

“You ordered an MRI without permission.” The attending says. “I’d rip your head off if you hadn’t found that malignant glioma…” He chuckles. “The patient-”

“Dave.”

“Dave laughed a lot when I told him.”

“This kind of tumor causes behavioral… Uh… It can cause inappropriate effects.” Harry nods along, staring at the bottom of the bed above him. “Can you operate?” He glances at Louis.

“No, it’s too invasive. It’s been growing for a long time.” The attending averts his gaze, almost as if he’s sad. “I hate it when it’s like this.”

“You’re known for being the king of lost causes, Doctor Tomlinson. Give it a shot.” Harry insists, sitting up on the bed.

They’re really close now.

“Is this because you want to scrub in on your medical mystery?”

“That too. But- mostly because the guy’s not even thirty five yet. And his life is already ruined.” He says.

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Watch your tone.” 

“Why the fuck not,  _ Louis _ ?” Harry asks again, their foreheads almost touching.

“I’m not going to kill someone just because you want to crack a skull open,  _ Harry _ .” He sighs. “I can give you something else, though.”

“I don’t-” but Harry never finishes his sentence, because Louis’ mouth is right there on his, his lips applying a strong pressure on Harry’s, and his hands gripping Harry’s thighs making him forget everything that he had planned on doing.

Harry doesn’t even try to resist. He lies back on the bed and pulls Louis down with him, opening his legs to accommodate the other doctor better. They already know the drill by heart at this point, and Harry can almost predict Louis’ next moves, just because he’s so used to the roadmap his tongue always traces on his body.

Still, everything seems brand new. It’s always like a first time with them, and it’s  _ so good _ . Louis pries Harry’s mouth with his tongue as he grinds down and rotates his hips on Harry’s crotch, making the intern swallow a moan and arch his back at the same time, going crazy for friction.

Harry scratches his nails up Louis’ back, and when he gets to his shoulder blades he scratches down again, making Louis stop kissing him just to fit his face in the crook of his neck. Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get over Louis’ voice right in his ear and the way he responds so well to this kind of thing. Harry is so aroused he doesn’t think about anything else, he just needs, needs, needs.

Louis kisses his neck and his tongue is hot and soft and persistent, and Harry will deny till the day of his death, but he loves it when the attending marks him up, nibbling his sensitive skin and smoothing it again with his tongue and lips, going from one side to the other while Harry massages his ass over the scrubs, his palms full of Louis.

He kisses down Harry’s naked chest and swirls his tongue around one of Harry’s nipples, who just closes his eyes and throws his head back on the pillow, grasping Louis’ hair and holding it between his fingers.

“Take off your shirt,” he manages to say, and Louis stops his ministrations to do just that.

“Take off your pants,” Doctor Tomlinson orders back, as he strips naked in front of Harry.

“Fuck me, you’re hot.” Harry whispers.

“Was that an  _ actual _ compliment, sweet cheeks?” Louis smirks, kneeling on the bed again.

“Don’t you ever call me sweet cheeks, it’s creepy,” Harry actually laughs, but brings Louis to the bed again. “C’mon, straddle my chest.”

“Why?”

“Want you in my mouth.” He tells Louis confidently.

It sometimes astounds Harry just how comfortable this man makes him feel. No matter what he says out loud or even to himself, just in his head, when their bodies are connected and they’re acting this  _ bare _ with each other - no pun intended -, an unexplainable level of familiarity takes over Harry’s entire being, and he revels in it.

You see, Harry has always considered himself pretty confident when it came to his own body and his sexual abilities. He’s never thought of himself of a god or anything, but sex has always been good and satisfying. Sex with Louis has always been more; from the first night.

Harry’s one night stands have always only lasted  _ one  _ night, and when they left he never wanted them to come back. He never longed for their touch and wished for their kisses, and he definitely never drove to work thinking about their cock and how much he wanted it again. With Louis, from the word go, there was some sort of addiction there.

Surely, it all went away that next day, when everything came crashing down and Harry discovered who he was. But now that they’re here, that they’ve been doing this for a while, Harry can’t even deny anymore how right their bodies feel together. And if Louis’s porn star moans are anything to go by, the intern thinks his boss just might agree.

 

When the tip of Louis’ cock touches Harry’s lips, the intern can’t help but open his mouth wider, taking the head in first and swirling his tongue around it. Louis has one hand on his nipple and the other holding himself up on the higher bed, but as soon as Harry notices it, he takes both of Louis’ nipples on his own hands, making the attending exhale a soft  _ oh _ and grind his body forwards, feeding more of himself to Harry.

And Harry loves it. Louis is thick and warm, and just so, so hard. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt anybody this hard just from a blowjob, but there Louis is. Harry blinks twice, and that tells Louis that he can fuck his mouth, so he does it.

He braces himself on his knees and waits for Harry to place his tongue on the underside of his dick, finally allowing him to go deeper. Harry doesn’t close his eyes because he wants to see it - all his sensations overriding any coherent thought. He sees, feels,  _ tastes _ Louis’ heaviness inside of himself, and there’s just no explanation for how hard  _ he _ gets because of it.

Harry fondles with Louis’ balls and grabs his ass too, helping him move in and out, desperate for his moans to get higher, more electric,  _ desperate. _

_ “Fuck,  _ Harry, holy- holy sh-shit, oh my God!” Louis keeps saying, sweat running down his chest. 

He’s moving in and out, in and out, and Harry wants him to come, needs him to come, because whenever Louis gets like this, it means the intern is already ten times worse. He doesn’t know how he gets this hot and bothered getting someone else off, but facts are facts and this one is: the more pleasure he gives Louis, the more he feels like he’s pleasuring himself too.

Harry feels precome drip down his own dick and hit his stomach, and he arches his back once again, finding just air, of course, and making Louis slide up is chest meanwhile. 

“Shit.” Lous closes his eyes strongly, and Harry just wants to speed up the process, can’t take this anymore.

For all he wanted to make Louis desperate, he just managed to make himself even worse.

He flattens his feet on the bed and brings his knees up, then he bobs his head up and down Louis’ length as fast as he can, and finally… Finally, he grabs Louis’ ass cheeks with both hands again, no fabric between them, and it’s a whole new kind of heaven when he separates them, sliding his fingers closer and closer to Louis’ hole.

“I’m gonna-  _ come _ , fuck Harry, I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, c’mon, Louis, do it.” Harry urges him, taking only his head into his mouth again, and then licking down his shaft to his balls and back, sucking on his tip and moaning around it, applying light pressure on Louis’ hole with two fingers, his other hand now gripping the man’s waist to hold him in the air. 

Louis circles his hips in the air so Harry can get his tongue everywhere, but he forces Louis to slide up just a little bit more until he’s finally sitting on his face. The first contact his mouth makes with Louis’ rim is also the last one, because the second Louis realizes what Harry is doing he shouts louder than he has ever done it with Harry, and comes with strong, thick white ropes, getting them all over Harry’s face and the pillowcase.

Quickly, Louis makes it to change his position to get Harry off, but the intern really doesn’t need it.

“Just kiss me,” he instructs the attending.

Louis slides his body down a bit, and does just that. He kisses Harry as he plays with his hair; the laziness of his orgasm kiss does things to Harry, and as the intern tugs himself rapidly, Louis closes light fists on his curls, softly caressing his scalp. The stark contrast of what they’re doing is what gets to Harry in the end.

Three more strokes, one more kiss, a slight pull of hair, and he’s done for. He comes on Louis’ back and ass, and when he can finally breathe properly, Louis falls onto the mattress, squeezed between Harry’s body and the wall. Their bodies are intertwined and the attending’s hair is on his chest, but for the first time ever, Harry isn’t bothered; he doesn’t want him to move.

“Fuck, that was so good.” He says when he catches his breath.

“It was.” Louis agrees, his forefinger drawing patternless things on Harry’s torso. “I came on your face. I’m sorry.” He raises his hand, cleaning the side of Harry’s cheek.

“It’s all right. I got to come on your ass, it was perfect.” He chuckles.

“Look at us…” Louis’ voice is airy.

“One would say this moment right here is almost… Romantic.” It’s weird to even say the word.

“Why do you say  _ romantic _ like it’s a bad word?” Louis asks him, genuinely curious.

“We define love the way we’ve experienced it.” He shrugs.

“Then I should be the one hating romance.” Yep. Louis Tomlinson has a point there.

“Why don’t you?” Harry frowns.

“I don’t know. It might sound gullible, and even downright stupid, but I just… I’ve always…  _ Loved love _ , I guess.” He sighs. His fingers never stop caressing Harry, playing with his chest hair.

“Love is scary as fuck. I mean- what if you learn that you  _ need  _ love and you don’t have it? What if you like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then… It falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain?”

This has always been something that haunted Harry. 

Louis’ answer comes as a surprise and a punch in the stomach at the same time.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Yeah. He’s here.

 

-

 

Harry is fairly sure he fell asleep again, with a warm, soft body by his side, holding him,  _ embracing _ him. It’s even better than the sleep he had before, but the way he wakes up now is definitely less great.

“Fucking finally, you’re here!” Niall says loudly as he turns on the lights. “What the- _ of course _ .” He rolls his eyes and closes the door behind him.

The intern gets out of the bed faster than he thought it’d be possible. He puts on his clothes and trainers, and opens the on call room door, and he finds his friend waiting for him in the corridor.

“Came here to tell you about your patient,” Niall starts. “Did Doctor Tomlinson tell you or was he too busy moaning your name?” He snorts.

“He told me.” Harry closes his eyes.

“Wasn’t that  _ not  _ happening anymore?” Niall asks.

“Moment of weakness.” He says and the other intern laughs. “I’m serious. Was just a shag.”

“You looked pretty cosy for  _ just a shag _ , Hazza. You sure you don’t like Doctor Tomlinson?” Niall isn’t even making fun of Harry, he’s actually checking in on him.  _ What the fuck? _

_ “ _ Are you insane?” Harry snorts. “Of course not. Louis means  _ nothing _ , Niall. I just need to get off sometimes and he’s available. He’s hot and he’s there. I hate him on principle, there’s no fucking way I  _ like _ him.” He sounds convincing because he is telling the  _ truth _ . 

And Niall looks like he’s going to laugh again, but then the door opens and his eyes widen.

“We’re taking a shot at the glioma after all. Prep the patient, Doctor Horan, you’re scrubbing in with me.” Louis says. He doesn’t even spare Harry a glance, he just walks faster down the hallway.

“Sorry.” Niall says.

“Just go. It’s okay.” Harry tells him. He knocks his head on the wall one, two, three times. Then decides it’s finally time to go home. He has another shift in twelve hours.

 

 


	9. KARMA IS A BITCH (BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE)

 

Harry is not the most self aware person in the world, but even he knows when he has been a jerk. It wasn’t even on purpose, is the thing. He was just making things clear with Niall, and if Louis heard him - which Harry is sure he did - then yes, Harry feels a little bad, but it’s not like he said something the attending did not know.

So Harry goes home and sleeps for a good eight hours, until Jade and Perrie wake him up doing the cleaning around the house.

“C’mon, you gotta do it too!” Perrie knocks him on the head with a pillow.

“It’s not like I _always_ do it…” Harry jokes, but gets up anyways.

Everyone is getting ready to go out tonight, because their shifts are finally aligned and they all have tomorrow off; even Niall and Jesy, who are still stuck at the hospital will get out at an acceptable time for them to party.

Harry honestly can’t remember the last time he went out without having to worry about how much he’d have to drink or what time he needed to be back home. He isn’t even the best at it anymore, he reckons. It’s just weird now, that he is completely done with the whole college phase. Partying was before. The now is very, very different.

“I disagree…” Jade says, vacuuming the rug in the living room. Harry hadn’t even noticed he was speaking out loud. “We can still balance everything.”

“We really can’t.” He responds. “But one party every… Five months is all right.” The intern jokes and the girl laughs with him.

Perrie is in charge of the kitchen and the bathrooms, and Harry and Jade are in charge of everything else: bedrooms, living room, dining room, backyard. They can do it. He just hopes he survives until they need to actually get ready to go out.

 

_-_

 

“I can’t believe we’re drinking and it’s not at Oli’s!” Niall celebrates as they enter the nightclub.

The beginning of June brings them sweeter weather, even if the rain doesn’t really ever stop. It’s not raining today, but it’s the first time in a long time, that is, considering the nights Harry’s spent out of the hospital. When they’re in there, he barely has time to remember what the day of the week it is. Time is a weird concept when you’re a surgeon - Harry guesses he’s told you that before.

“So, what are we starting with?” Jesy asks. Today is a day of firsts, _that’s_ for sure, after all, they’ve never actually socialized outside the work environment, except for Harry’s birthday - but he didn’t spend much time with her, because he was in the car with you-know-who.

“Beer, of course!” Jade replies, already walking towards the bar.

“No way!” Niall pulls her back.

“Why not?” She asks.

“We’re starting with vodka.” He winks.

“Why? We’re gonna get sick in no time…” Perrie complains.

“Don’t you kids know _anything_ ?” The blonde Texan sighs, revolted. “ _Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor, never been sicker._ ” Niall quotes proudly.

“Is this some weird, new thing that people are saying?” Harry snorts. He’s always started with spirits, but just because it’s the faster way to get drunk.

“THIS IS CULTURE,” his friend screams as he smacks Harry in the head.

“Fuck you.” Harry snickers, then throws one arm around Niall’s shoulder. “Let’s go, vodka it is. First round’s on me.” What? He’s in a good mood.

 

An hour and a half later, they’re all very, very drunk. _So_ drunk that Harry’s eyes are a bit unfocused, but definitely not betraying him: Niall and Jade are making out in a corner. He nudges Perrie to show her and the woman almost spills her drink with how hard she laughs. _What even is today?_ she asks, but Harry has no answer to give her.

He takes her hand and they hit the dance floor together. Harry has done some traveling in his life, and if there is one thing he’s realized is that Americans don’t really know how to party; at least not like the Dutch But then again, Harry doesn’t think anywhere in the world can be compared to Amsterdam.

He closes his eyes and enjoys the music. He can almost feel the tension leave his body, and he even stops paying attention to Perrie. At some point, he feels a hand on his waist and a whisper in his ear. It’s probably a scream, but it comes out as a whisper. The guy is tall and blonde and totally not Harry’s type, meaning, he’s perfect.

Harry has no idea of where Perrie is when he lets Doug buy him a drink.

“Just a beer, thanks,” he says when the man asks him what he wants, very politely.

They dance together, and it gets heated pretty quickly. Harry lets himself be kissed on the neck, but not on the mouth - not yet. It doesn’t feel right, and it’s very weird for him to think that, because he was never one to consider _kissing_ very intimate. It used to be just something people did with their lips and tongues.

And it’s also something Harry’s learned how to do while traveling, apparently, Latin Americans really hate the way North Americans kiss. But if he says so himself, he’s pretty damn good at it nowadays. And so is Louis.

Louis, who isn’t here right now and who had no right whatsoever to invade his thoughts while Doug is making advances on him. Harry supports his body on the wall and looks up. The colorful nightclub lights are making him dizzy and he really wants to get out of here now. He’s just… Bored. Not feeling it. At the same time he decides to go, he hears Perrie screaming at someone.

“Oh, _screw_ beautiful, I’m brilliant. If you want to appease me, compliment my brain!” She says before throwing her beer at the guy’s face. She _is_ brilliant indeed.

“Sorry, gotta go-” Harry excuses himself from Doug and strides to where his friend is, a couple of steps ahead of him. “Hey, are you okay?” He asks her.

“Do I look okay?”

“You look great.”

“Then I’m okay.” Perrie smiles and winks. “Wanna get out of here?” Harry simply nods for an answer, and they exit the club together, praying that Jade will end up at Niall’s and not bring him to theirs. Their sex lives are pretty sad at the moment, and they don’t need other people rubbing theirs in their faces.

Perrie never knew about him and Louis, and now definitely isn’t the time to tell her, but Harry still feels kind of bad for it. They hold hands on their way home; the club isn’t _that_ far from their street, and they’re feeling adventurous, even if it’s the middle of the night.

It takes almost thirty minutes, but when they finally enter the house, Harry sighs in relief.

“I thought you were making out with someone for a while there,” his housemate comments, passing him a bottle of water.

“I was. Kinda.”

“Why _kinda_?” She frowns.

“Wasn’t really feeling it. Had better.” _Now everything else seems to pale in comparison._ Fuck, Harry hates himself.

“Is there a boy you’re not telling me about, Doctor Styles?” Perrie teases.

“No,” he chuckles through his lie.

“Yes. Oh shit, yes, there is! Tell me, who is it? Who is it? Is he from college? Or is he from the hospital? SHIT, he’s from the hospital, isn’t he?” Her big blue eyes are scarily excited, and she has this maniacal grin spread on her face that should throw Harry off, but actually makes him laugh more.

“I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I don’t want to.” He finishes his water. “G’night, Pezza.”

 

-

 

Going back to work after twenty-four hours is… Good. For someone who complains so much about spending eighty percent of his life inside of a hospital, Harry missed it. And as if he didn’t know that already, Niall slaps him on the back and says _you sure as hell are a surgeon_ , laughing a bit.

He’s working with Liam today, but the resident doesn’t seem angry or annoyed. Liam hands him a chart as he speaks.

“Trauma wants a consult on a 66 year old male who collapsed from severe anaphylaxis, complicated by respiratory arrest. His son just got back from Thailand, almost immediately the father had his allergic reaction.” Liam fills him in. “Patient has a few allergies, including pollen, mold, shellfish, but no corresponding allergens were in evidence.”

“Why are we doing a surgical consult on an allergy?” Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“Oh, we’re not. We’re doing a consult on the excruciating abdominal pain he now has.” Someone groans loudly behind the curtain. “As you may have heard,” he sneers, before opening the curtain.

Harry puts a comforting smile on his face and says hello to the father and the son. Liam talks to the patient while Harry listens to his son’s version of the events, and when they’re done, Liam asks Harry to dictate all the tests they need to order. A while ago, Harry would’ve been a bit frightened by being put on the spot like this; today, the intern has the answer at the tip of his tongue.

 

Working with Liam is all right, he decides when the resident hands him a banana while they wait for the results. Harry attempts small conversation with him and they even manage to hold it for fifteen minutes; by then, the results are in and they both agree that they need to take them to James Corden.

Liam is more than capable than handling it, Harry thinks, but part of what makes him so good is exactly this: knowing when to ask for help. The intern takes note.

 

“The guy was in some serious pain, ten milligrams of morphine worth,” Liam tells their superior.

“Test results reveal elevated lipase, amylase, pancreatic enzymes…” Harry speaks.

“His pancreas is enlarged,” Liam shows him the picture, “could be pancreatitis, maybe alcohol-induced.” He deduces.

“The son said he smelled alcohol on his father at six a.m. in the morning,” the intern provides.

“Guess that’s it, then.” The chief clasps his hands.

“Meaning you totally disagree.” Liam smiles. Harry gets confused. “I was hoping you would.”

James all but snorts.

“Not everyone who starts their day off with a mimosa fries their pancreas… And your eyesight must be a lot better than mine, because I cannot even _see_ the entire pancreas due to the overlying bowel gas.” When he says it, both Harry and Liam take a fifth look at the image.

The resident nods.

“We’ll order an abdominal CT and take a better look,” he says.

“There you go.” The chief smiles.

 

-

 

Harry gets the CT results around lunchtime, and since Liam is eating _with Zayn_ , he simply asks his resident if he can go talk to the patient by himself, as he isn’t very hungry.

“That’s all right, Styles.” Liam allows him.

“Thank you, Doctor Payne.” Harry says. “Doctor Malik,” he nods. Zayn nods too, and then Harry leaves, with a small smile on his face. He cannot _believe_ he _wants_ those two to get together.

 

When Harry enters the room, the son is talking to the father, and they look like they are having a lot of trouble communicating.

“Excuse me, is this a bad time?” He knocks on the door, which is already open.

“No, come in,” the patient answers.

“According to your CT, you have a lesion on your pancreas,” Harry grimaces.

“What do you think it could be?” The son rushes to make the question.

“A number of things, really. That’s why we need to biopsy it. I could just be a benign cyst.” He tries to be positive. Always.

“Or it could be cancer. Right?” The patient asks.

Harry swallows hard.

“We’ll know soon enough.”

Harry leaves the room and the son follows him, grabbing him by the arm.

“Is my dad dying?” He asks.

“We don’t know yet. The biopsy will tell us more,” the doctor assures him, so he goes back into the room and closes the door.

Harry makes his way to the nurse’s station to sign a few papers, and Nick’s there too, doing the same.

He sighs and hands the nurse one chart, thanking her with a small smile on his face.

“Why is the person you wanna talk to always the hardest to actually talk to?” Harry asks no one in particular, but it’s Nick who is by his side. Still, he keeps staring into his patient’s room.

“Isn’t that the million dollar question?” Doctor Grimshaw responds. “I guess it’s more about us than it is about them.”

“How so?” Harry looks at him interested.

“I mean, it's all about what you’re willing to say. We often lie in our daily life. White lies, just to make things easier, prettier. But then there’s that one person who punches honesty right out of you… And it’s… Difficult. So we avoid them.” He shrugs. “For some of us it’s family, for others it’s friends or… Someone else.” The attending ponders. "The older I get the more I realize the value of privacy, of cultivating your circle and only letting certain people in. Not everyone deserves a seat at the table of your life, but… You still need people with whom you can be open, honest, and real.”

“Not the easiest people to find.” Harry sighs, then looks down.

“No. But not impossible, either.” Nick says and hands the nurse a chart, too, thanking her and turning back to Harry right after. “As long as you’re not an idiot to let them go when you find them, you’ll be just fine,” he winks.

 

-

 

Liam pages Harry when it’s time for them to perform the biopsy, and he seems to be in an even better mood when they start working together. Maybe he knows telepathically that Louis hates Harry at the moment; maybe Zayn finally grew the ovaries he needed to ask him out. Either way, they’re talking calmly when the patient gets anaphylactic again. They get the situation under control, but it’s a scare, nonetheless.

 

“He had another allergic reaction,” they report to the chief later.

“Pancreas?”

“Merrill Wills, yeah,” Liam confirms. “And the second attack was even more severe than the first. It coincided with biopsying the pancreatic lesion, which now appears was a cyst.”

“We also think that the next cyst that pops will probably kill him.” Harry says.

“If there is a next,” the chief replies. “Let’s run a couple more tests, see if there is any evidence of parasites, and MRI his entire body if you have to. If we’re lucky, he only had two cysts and he can go home.”

 

They aren’t lucky. Or, well, the patient isn’t. They find something called _echinocuccos_ , which Harry has never heard about.

“It means the cysts are filled with tapeworm.” Liam tells him.

“Cysts? There’s more?” Harry asks, already checking the picture. “Three more?” Shit.

“Four more. You missed the one in his brain,” James says with a creased forehead. Means he’s worried. “Page Louis. Want you three in my office in two hours with a surgical plan before we go to the patient.” He orders. “Doctor Payne, have someone clear my schedule. This will take some time.”

“Yes, Sir.” Liam says and exits the room, taking intern with him. “I’ll find the secretary to clear the chief’s schedule and then check on my other patients. You find Doctor Tomlinson and talk to him.”

“Couldn’t we, maybe- like, change tasks?” Harry asks. “I might not be his favorite person at the moment.”

“You’re not my favorite person either and I’ve dealt with you for months now,” Liam opens a smile, almost teasingly. “Go find Doctor Tomlinson. Do your damn job, Styles.” He says, and then he leaves.

 

Harry finds Louis when he’s just getting out of surgery, talking animatedly with Jesy and Doctor Ora, who receives Harry with a huge smile on her face. However, when she sees the way Louis reacts to him, she tones it down to at least sixty percent.

“Uh- we need you,” Harry says, opening the file on the iPad and showing it to him. “Patient has a total of four cysts, but one of them is… Huge, and located in the frontal lobe.” Harry zooms in.

“Shit, that’s so cool.” He checks. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.” Louis smiles at them. “Follow me, Doctor Styles.”

Harry does follow Louis, and for the first time in five months, they get inside of an actual office instead of an on-call room.

“This is… Different.” Harry tries to joke. Louis simply glares at him.

“So, is there a surgical plan in place?” He goes straight to business.

“No, the Chief asked us to come up with one and meet in his office in a couple of hours.”

“All right, that works.” Louis says and inspects what’s in front of him. “Are you assisting the general surgeons?”

“Yes, I mean, if you want I can-”

“No, that won’t be necessary, thanks. Just- get Doctor Payne here so we can move on.”

“He said I can do it, and he’ll approve of it… Or not, in the end.” Harry says, feeling kind of… Weird. Louis has never made him feel like this before.

“No offense, Doctor Styles, but I don’t fancy working with a baby today.” He doesn’t even look at him. “Get me Doctor Payne.”

 

-

 

Three hours later, James, Louis, Liam and Harry gather inside the patient’s room to tell him not only his diagnosis but also how they are going to proceed from now on.

“How the hell did I get tapeworms in my head?” The old man asks.

“We don’t know. But you have them.” Liam almost shrugs, but keeps himself in check.

“As you know, allergic reactions can be bad, so a third one might be fatal,” Louis explains. “We’re gonna have to remove all the cysts intact.”

The man looks super scared, so Harry decides to calm him down a bit.

“Doctor Tomlinson and Doctor Corden are two of the most highly acclaimed doctors in the country. You are very lucky to have wound up here.”

“And, if anything, Doctor Styles is fast becoming a very accomplished flatterer,” Louis jokes. It stings. He moves on, without sparing Harry another glance. _As it should be_ , Styles tells himself. “The cranial cyst, that is a big deal. We’re going to take off the top of your skull.”

“You’ll be digging into my brain?”

“Well, yes. Pretty much… And with saline. We use it to gently displace the cyst, and then… Poof, it magically pops out, kinda like delivering a baby… You know, if childbirth were painless.”

There’s a round of light chuckles around the room, and then James picks up from where Louis left off, explaining how he and Liam are going to remove the other cysts. At the end, he promises the patient they’ll do their best, and take very good care of him. In a low voice, in the corner of the room, Harry promises the son that they’re going to save his father.

 

-

 

“Give that a nice and warm saline bath…” Louis talks to himself right after he opens the skull. “Forceps and Taylor scissors, please… Thank you.” He beautifully cuts through the meninges and lifts it, staring at the brain adoringly. “Look at that… That’s what built the pyramids, painted the Mona Lisa, invented the internet, and cars, and airplanes and… Light!” He says in wonder. “And there’s our interloper.”

He finds the cyst and gets the saline, pouring it there.

“This is going to coax the cyst out of its little hiding place… Hopefully in one piece…” Harry finds it incredible how concentrated he is, and how the entire room is revolving around _him_ instead of the patient right now. Both Doctor Corden and Doctor Payne are also just paying attention to Louis’ words, and Louis’ actions. “Come on now,” Louis gently speaks. “Tray, please, there we go… And… And we got it. Got it!” He celebrates, still in a low voice.

It’s like everyone lets out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“That was absolutely incredible.” James praises him. “Sometimes it’s good to be reminded why I pay you millions in a year.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s not like the fact that I’m the only Doctor in this hospital who’s won four prizes for groundbreaking surgeries is enough…” He shrugs, but then laughs. “You still got three to go, so I’ll get out of your way. Okay if I watch it from the gallery? This is hella interesting.”

“Gonna be our pleasure, Tommo.” James pats him on the back. “Doctor Payne, Doctor Styles… Let’s scrub in.”

 

-

 

Everybody dies. It’s the _one_ thing human beings can be relied upon to do. Harry never really understood how it can still come as a surprise to people, until it happens to him.

One second. One second and one tiny mistake. That’s all it takes for him to burst the cyst and provoke the third, and feared, allergic reaction on the patient. There’s a lot of movement around him, there’s Louis getting up in the gallery and banging the glass, there’s Liam screaming and James performing CPR; there is Harry frozen staring at the mess he’s just created, and the 66 year old patient lying dead on the table.

“Call it, Doctor Styles.” Liam orders him.

“Time of death, nine fifty-three p.m.” He says and removes his cap. When he starts walking, no one follows him but Louis.

 

“Doctor Styles,” he calls. “HARRY. Slow down.” Louis catches up to him.

“I- I promised, I…” He starts to hyperventilate, and Louis hands him the inhaler. “I promised his son he would be okay, that you- that we would-”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Yes, Louis screams on his face, taking all of his small personal space against the wall.

“I’m- Louis, I- I’m scared.” Harry confesses. It probably is the first time he’s being vulnerable with the man. And it isn’t unconsciously.

“You should be,” his expression is hard, “because what I’m about to ask you ’s gonna be quite difficult for you.” There’s a pause. “Put yourself together. Clean your face, and get ready to talk to the patient’s son. Give him the news. James will probably accompany you, but you should be the one to tell him. You _promised,_ after all.”

“I-”

“As your attending, I should be screaming at you right now for breaking the most _basic_ rule of being a surgeon. But since I have some compassion left in me… Good luck, Doctor Styles. And I’m sorry you lost a patient.” Louis says.

“T-th-thank you.” Harry manages to say.

Louis nods and starts walking away, but Harry just needs to know.

“Is this how it felt?” He asks a bit louder, and Louis looks back. “When you killed my father? Is this how you felt?” He can actually feel the tears streaming down his face, but he doesn’t even bother to clean them.

Harry has just _killed_ someone. He’s absolutely shattered.

Louis turns around but doesn’t walk closer. He has his two hands inside his pockets when he speaks.

“No matter how bad things get, the true test it how we respond to the pain we suffer.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” The intern says, a bit angrily.

“It will.” The way Louis says it… It seems like a promise.

 

 


	10. MISERY LOVES COMPANY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm one day late and I'm sorry. But here it is. Hope you enjoy it!  
> <3

 

After talking to the family, meaning, just the one son, Harry decides he will go on with his shift trying to look like a human being, despite feeling like shit on the inside.

“You’re still on Payne’s service, Doctor Styles.” The chief lets him know.

“I know, Sir.” Harry replies. “I’ll be on my way.” He nods and is just about to leave when James calls his name.

“Harry…” The intern looks back. “This is a lion fight. So, don’t lick your wounds. The scars you bear are the signs of a competitor. You’re in a lion fight. Just because you didn’t win today doesn’t mean you don’t know how to roar.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Lord knows Tomlinson, Payne and I have lost our fair share of patients.”

“Doctor Tomlinson didn’t lose this one.” Harry is quick to say. “We did. I- _I_ did.”

“ _We_ did.” James repeats. “You’re all right, Doctor Styles. Take care.”

 

The rest of the day goes by in a haze. Harry doesn’t scrub in on any other surgery; instead, he stays in the pit with Liam taking care of fevers, and the flu, and upset stomachs. It’s easier this way.

His resident shows him a lot of compassion and Harry is extremely grateful for it. Liam even pats him on the back before leaving the hospital, and he offers Harry a ride, but much like every other day, Harry opts for staying in the hospital.

He doesn’t expect to end up in the morgue, but that’s exactly where he goes once he is free to do whatever he wants.

 

He’s never really been down here, but he soon enough makes friends with Callie, the girl who biopsies the bodies just to confirm cause of death. When she sees his face, it’s like she already _knows_.

“You all look the same after the first one,” she offers him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” Callie then says, right after she shows Harry where _his_ dead patient is.

 

First thing he notices is that it’s cold. Harry never imagined death to be anything else, so it makes sense. The only thing that _doesn’t_ is how bright it is in here - just like in every wing of the hospital. It’s not somber, it’s not dark, it’s just… So clean. The only morbid thing are the dead bodies in freezers, really. And Harry’s dead patient, lying on a table right in front of him.

The sound surprises him, and no one else makes it but himself. It’s loud, strident, painful. He screams before he can contain himself, like it just needed to leave his body and exist out there in the world - a scream of pain, of defeat, of not being good enough.

The tears come later. They’re incessant and make his eyes burn. Harry welcomes them as much as he can; he knows he deserves them. He’s just killed someone.

 

“There you are.” Louis finds him minutes or hours later. Harry doesn’t know.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, lifting his head just a bit.

“Trying to lift your mood.”

Harry laughs humorlessly.

“Sure.” He fake-agrees. “Let’s play a game of whose life sucks the most. I’ll win. I always win.”

The attending doesn’t reply to that, just pulls up a chair and sits by his side.

“I used to come here every time I lost a patient during my intern year…” Louis says. “Callie is new,” he tilts his head, “there used to be this old lady here, Rose. She’d always let me in and give me a hug on my way out.” He smiles weakly.  “As doctors we know more about the human body now than in all of history, but the miracle of life itself... Why people live and die, why they hurt or get hurt is still a mystery. She helped me understand that sometimes that’s okay.”

“What happened to her?”

“Died on my table, four years or so ago.” Louis almost snorts. “I hadn’t come here in almost six months by then, and when she asked me to take a look at her scans she was already so sick. The cancer was everywhere.” He looks down. “It took me forever to forgive myself for that.”

“She had cancer. You weren’t the one to kill her.” Harry tells him, but goes back to staring at his patient.

“I was. Not intentionally, but, logically speaking, I was the one to crack her skull open. Maybe she’d have had more months to live hadn’t I done anything.” Louis takes a deep breath.

“I made a mistake, though. Not intentionally, but- I did.” Another tear rolls downs his cheek.

“And you’ll make many more. And so will I, and James, and Doctor Payne and… And your intern friends.” He tries to calm him down. “I think our mistakes are God’s reminders that no matter how much we try… We are not _Him_.”

“Thanks.” Harry ironically looks up. “But I already knew.” He takes a deep breath. “Fuck.” The intern curses, placing both hands on his face and rubbing it as strongly as he can. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cries. “Fuc-”

“Hey.” Before he can react, Louis gets up and pulls him in, giving him a fierce hug. “It’s all right, Harry. You’re okay.”

“I’m not.” He’s never been this vulnerable. Not with anyone. “I’m not okay.” And he doesn’t even know what he is talking about anymore.

“You’re going to be.”

“I won’t, I can’t even handle one patient, how could I- I—”

“If you don’t feel the losses, if they don’t hurt you and humble you, that’s when you know you’re not cut out for this kind of work.” His attending tells him. Apart from that, Harry’s not sure of what Louis is to him now. “You’re going to get through this. And I’ll help you. If you let me.” He offers him a small smile.

Completely unsure of what he is doing, but following his instincts, Harry nods.

“When do you have to be back here? To work.” Louis asks.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Come with me.”

 

Harry is very proud of how well he can recognize these hallways by now, but it is very impressive the way Louis navigates inside, so easily, so surely, like Sherlock Holmes running through the streets of London.

Harry, much like John (a lot younger and way less sharp), follows him mindlessly, trying not to hear what people are whispering as they walk around hand in hand; it’s not romantic, it’s not _scandalous_. Harry is being guided because he doesn’t know where else to go, what else to do.

He expected his first loss to take a toll on him; he didn’t expect to feel this powerless.

 

The first thing they do is stop by James Corden’s office. Louis asks him permission to clock out a bit earlier than his own shift allows him, as he doesn’t have any other surgeries lined up, and the other neurosurgeon is already at the hospital. James allows him, and his eyes rarely leave Louis’s, but he is obviously aware of Harry’s presence, and if the intern isn’t wrong, James is almost happy to see that they are together.

The second thing they do is go by the nurse’s station. Both Nick and Rita are there, but they don’t say a thing, which is… New. Nick tries not to look at the two of them, and if Harry wasn’t feeling that much sorry for himself, he might’ve cared about what Louis’s ex-husband was thinking.

As it is, he simply tries to smile at them, and Rita pats him on the shoulder much like Liam did.

“Did you sign off already?” Louis asks him.

They all have cards for when they enter and leave the hospital, but once they’re off duty, they need to sign off the surgical floor.

Harry nods.

“Okay…” Louis signs his own document and hands it to the nurse. “Bye, y’all. Don’t call me.” He says. “Let’s go.” He starts pulling Harry again.

“I-” he stops, “I need to get my things.”

“Lead the way.”

Silently, Harry enters the interns’ lounge, which basically consists in a large room with benches and lockers. They don’t get sofas and fridges like the residents and the attendings, but they do have showers. Harry skips it, though, and throws his stuff in his backpack, deciding to not change clothes now. Wherever Louis is taking him, he hopes it’s a place where people won’t mind his scrubs. They’re clean, Harry’s changed after the surgery.

 

-

 

“Where are we going?” He asks Louis once they’re inside his car.

“My place.” Louis responds.

Harry wants to say _no_ , and he wants to ask _why_ , but he doesn’t do either. He sits back and stares at the open road ahead of them, while Louis silently drives through the afternoon.

It’s nearing five p.m., Harry notices, and the sun is not close to setting yet, which is good. Different. Sunny days are the rarest things around here.

Harry thinks about it and remembers that summer is just around the corner. He is equally excited and bummed that this will be the first summer of his life in which he won’t be traveling. Even during med school, Harry’s always managed to get away for a couple of weeks. Right now, _vacation_ isn’t even part of his personal vocabulary anymore.

Oh, how shit changes.

 

He doesn’t know what’s on the radio, but he likes it. When he tunes back in to reality, he even notices Louis is singing along. This is a nice surprise. Harry didn’t know he had a nice voice, and he also doesn’t have time to prepare and comment on it, because soon enough Louis is slowing down and entering the garage of a fancy building.

Every time Harry drives through the city he thinks he’d like to live here. It’s tall and it’s big and people who live here are usually very… Pompous. Harry hates to admit how futile he is for being attracted to this kind of life, but he guesses everyone has at least one side of themselves that they’re ashamed of. He wonders what Louis’s is.

The attending stops the car and instructs him to get out of it, leading Harry to an elevator and pressing the number eight.

“I kind of expected you to be on top.” Harry comments absentmindedly.

“I usually am,” Louis responds with a joke.

“I’ve noticed,” see, Harry can be funny too. “Hence the observation.” He completes.

“The top floor is too spacious. A duplex apartment. Mine is already too big and too empty on its own.” He shrugs. “Ah. Here we go.”

Louis exits the lift first and Harry follows suit, waiting patiently for the other doctor to unlock his door, revealing a large hallway that ends in a way too big of a living room for just Louis.

“D’you wanna grab a shower?” Louis asks him.

“Uh-”

“You can take a bath too, I don’t mind.”

“A shower’s fine.” Harry manages to say.

“Come on, then, I’ll show you where it is…” Louis starts walking.

 

The bathroom is big too. The other man comments this is the common one, but he fancies his ensuite much more. Harry doesn’t tell him that he really wants to visit his ensuite; instead, he thanks Louis for being kind and receives a smile in return.

 

Water helps. But then again, it always does. Since he was little, Harry was in love with the sea, and pools, showers. His dad would always try to get him out in time for things, but little H would make a scandal to dry himself off. There’s just something about the transparent liquid that makes him feel safe.

On earth, he’s the most imbalanced human being; he believes that all the precision he has with his hands were taken from his legs, since he’s falling over nothing more often than he’d like to admit. As a kid, he’d never take part in sport activities, and when he absolutely had to, for PE grades, he was always the last one to be picked.

But when it came to swimming, everyone wanted him on their team. He even swam for a while at the beginning of university, but then his coursework took over every gap he had. The point is: water calms him down.

Under the shower head, Harry can feel the dried tears from the morgue finally leaving his cheeks, and his entire body relaxes when droplets and more droplets hit his skin. This is good. Harry is fine.

 

When he comes out of the bathroom, he follows the smell of good food and… He can’t believe Louis is cooking for him.

“I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”

“I thought you didn’t cook…” Harry trails; he remembers Louis saying something like that after one of their hookups.

“I can cook breakfast food, so that’s what we’re having.” He shrugs. “Promise it’s good.”

Harry wants to say _I trust you_ , but even if he gives it an airy, playful tone, it’ll still be too heavy. As it is, he tries for a small smile and sits on a stool while Louis moves around in his kitchen.

Five minutes later, the attending places everything on the table and invites Harry to sit down.

“Coffee, tea… Beer?” Louis offers.

“I’ve never had beer with breakfast.” He states flatly.

“There’s a first time for everything.” The other man smiles and retrieves two Budweisers from the fridge.

Harry takes the first bite of eggs on toast and…

“This is actually phenomenal.” The intern compliments Louis with his mouth still full. And, because he needs to know… “Is there anything you can’t do?” He asks.

To his surprise, Louis laughs loudly.

“Loads of things. Including cooking. Like I said, I can make breakfast food. And maybe pot noodles.”

“I love pot noodles.”

“You look like it,” Louis decides, sipping from his beer and then chewing a slice of bacon. “’S not half bad, I suppose.”

After that, they don’t talk much. They finish eating and Harry insists on doing the dishes, just so Louis will tell him that the most he can do is load the dishwasher and press some buttons. _Do I look like someone who would_ do _dishes?_ he jokes. Harry replies that he doesn’t know, because he actually… Doesn’t.

For all that they have slept together, Harry has no idea of who Louis is. Sure, he’s been proven over and over again that the man is an insanely good doctor, who is also kind, funny, and quick with his tongue - in every sense, including, and, maybe specifically, the dirty one. He knows for a fact that Louis is amazing in bed and hates bright lights.

Still, he has no idea of what are the little things that constitute this human being. Harry was always so caught up in hating him - or in reminding himself as to why he _should_ hate him - that he never stopped to pay attention to what was right in front of him.

He studies Louis’ side right now and averts his gaze right when Louis looks back at him. They’re on the couch, so it’s easy to pretend he’s looking at the TV. Harry keeps a straight face until he cannot anymore, but when he decides to steal another glance at the man, he’s faced with his icy blue eyes already on him.

 

Louis takes a deep breath, and then:

“How are you now?” His voice is so, so, so soft.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “On top of everything, this case hit too close to home.”

“You had to give the news to his son,” Louis remembers.

“Yes.” Harry nods. “And- I’m grieving someone I barely even knew, it’s…”

“Illogical.” The neurosurgeon completes. “I know.” He turns off the TV, then changes his position on the couch so he’s right in front of him. “Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone. You see… It isn’t just death we have to grieve. It’s life. It’s loss. It’s change.”

“It sucks,” Harry agrees. “It sucks real bad. Hurts, too.”

“Yeah. But… That’s how and maybe _why_ you stay alive. When it hurts so much that you can’t breathe and you still do… That’s how you survive. And you must keep reminding yourself that one day, somehow and… As impossible as it may seem, you won’t feel this way. It won’t hurt this much.” There’s a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder now, squeezing it every now and then.

Harry wants to cry again, but he refrains from it. He looks at Louis instead. His face is so calm, and his expression is just so serene. Harry really wants to believe him.

“I think-” Harry breathes in, breathes out. “I think that the really crappy thing, the very worst part of it is that I cannot control it.” He says.

“But none of us can. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes, and let it go when we can.” Louis nods, almost as if he’s saying it to himself now too. “Sometimes… Sometimes you’re going to think you’re past it, and it’ll start all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away.”

“I- I know.” Harry looks down. “I did some counseling, after I lost my dad.” He doesn’t dare look in Louis’ eyes when he speaks about his father. “They tell us about the five stages of grief: denial; anger; bargaining; depression; acceptance. It’s like I’ve been stuck with anger and depression for years and years now. But yesterday, somehow, I lived through all five of them with somebody else’s dad. Feels like I still am.”

Confessing this is hard. Confessing this is saying _I am damaged goods and I know it; and now you know it too_.

Louis seems to really ponder his next words; and when he speaks, it’s clear how careful he is trying to be. As if the very mention of _That Day_ added with the recent events will set Harry off the edge. It might. So Harry is thankful for Louis’s carefulness.

“You asked me about your dad right after surgery…” He starts. “You asked me if it felt like this and… It didn’t.” Louis looks down. One would think he’s preparing himself for a war when he breathes in and out again. “I understand why you blame me for his death; I understand why your mom does too. But I- I don’t fully blame myself for Des Styles’ death, just as I don’t blame _you_ for yesterday’s patient. You are an _intern_ , which means you’re a _baby_ , and your parents weren’t looking after you as they should have when you had a dangerous toy in hands.

The day your dad entered the hospital was a hectic one. I remember so, so clearly.” Louis squints his eyes straight ahead, almost as if he’s reliving that day. “Seven years ago, I was a first year resident. I had just finished my intern year, and I wasn’t a _baby_ , but I was a toddler. I still needed someone to hold my hand,” he grimaces. “Doctor Felton was my attending at the time and he was some kind of cardio god back then. He asked me to run a number of tests and I did, I ordered all of them, followed through and everything. He did not ask for _one_.

Now, I knew it was missing and- I know _you_ know I knew, which is why I get your hatred and everything, but…” He looks down. “After he got the results, it was just so clear what your dad had that no one needed another confirmation. And I was already so damn focused on neuro that I just wanted that day to end so I could be on Doctor Dempsey’s service again. What an idiot.”

Pause.

“I mentioned the test to my resident, this red-headed woman who hated everyone, but somehow liked me,” Louis continues. “She said I could either shut up and scrub in and they’d let me assist, or I could tell Felton himself that he’d missed a test.

I honestly don’t think that changed much, looking back now. The cloth was already so deep in his left lung that it would’ve been impossible to get it out intact. But I can admit that the fact that we didn’t know the cloth was there didn’t help either.” He looks into Harry’s eyes now, and Harry’s surprised to see just how _open_ Louis looks. “I was there, and I did tell my superior about the missing test. I did not insist on it, true, but- it was a hectic day. I was a toddler. And I was scared. I forgave myself for it a long time ago.

I just… Felt like I should answer your question.” Louis finally ends.

Harry finally breathes.

Then he hugs Louis. He hugs Louis real tight.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “Thank you. For everything.”

“It’s okay. It’s all right. You had the right to know; I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while, it just- never felt quite right.”

“I _have_ been a prick.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know how to not be. Not ‘round you, anyways.” He didn’t mean to say that, but… He did. It’s out there now.

Louis chuckles.

“It is what it is.” He ends up saying.

 

-

 

They end up watching a whole movie in silence. It’s weird, because Harry always needs to comment stuff, especially throughout romcoms, but this time he sits still. He starts pretending he is paying attention to the movie, but in the end, he is actually enjoying it. What takes him out of his trance is Louis, who is unconsciously repeating all the male character’s lines. Harry is fairly sure this is a Nicholas Sparks movie, and it’s as funny as it is endearing that the attending has watched this enough times to know everything John - the character - is saying.

In all fairness, this is looking more and more like a date, so if Harry scoots closer on the sofa, no one can really blame him. Louis glances at him once, but then goes back to paying attention to the TV. Harry’s decided not to anymore, because he was closing to crying - and watching Louis’ profile is way better anyways.

Louis is hot. Literally. He is radiating heat by Harry’s side and Harry’s suddenly so cold, even if summer is approaching. It’s been a tiring day, Harry’s emotionally exhausted, thing were revealed and now he just… He needs-

“Are you all right?” Louis asks him.

“Yeah.” He replies.

“Sleepy?” Harry shakes his head. “What then?”

The intern closes his eyes and leans in. He figures he takes Louis by surprise, because he barely moves when their lips first touch.

Louis just stays there, body stiffened, as Harry moves his lips against his. A few seconds later, comes a whine from the back of Louis’ throat, and he grabs Harry’s hair at his nape, deepening their kiss, invading Harry’s mouth with his tongue and making Harry go pliant under his ministrations.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes as they separate for a second, but then he goes in again, attacking Louis as if he is the last man on earth. But even if he wasn’t, Harry still thinks he’d kiss him like this. There’s just… Something. Something that the guy at the club was absolutely lacking, but something Louis never fails to give him.

“No…” Louis mumbles, “nope.” He pushes Harry away lightly. “This,” he moves his hands between them, “this is not happening.”

“Why not?” Harry asks.

“You’re… Vulnerable. And confused. And it’s not why I brought you here.” He sits as he puts an incredibly ridiculous distance between them.

“I’m not,” the intern all but rolls his eyes. “I know what I want.” He bites his bottom lip. “What I need.”

Louis sighs.

“Well, _I’m_ vulnerable. And _I’m_ confused.” He finally says. “So this is not happening anyways.” Louis gets up. “I’m going to shower and then I’ll go to bed. Feel free to venture through my Netflix account or… Whatever. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital tomorrow.”

“Louis.”

“G’night, Harry.”

 

-

 

It takes him forever to fall asleep. Harry tosses and turns more than he thought he would. One, because it’s too damn early, and two, because he is alone in a foreign bed. He doesn’t fully admit, but he knows the third reason is what Louis said not even one hour ago, running through his mind like a child who was left alone in a park on a spring day.

Louis is vulnerable, and Louis is confused, and Harry does not know what to do about it.

People often make fun of women because they “aren’t capable of having sex without feelings” and Harry has always hated that, because it’s just so untrue. Women are capable of more things than one can imagine, including separating their hearts from their vaginas when they set their minds to it.

Men, on the other hand, have always been known for not caring about feelings at all. _Fuck them and leave them_ , that’s how most boys are raised by sexist parents. That’s not how he was brought up, but it’s how most of his friends were. That’s how, statistically, Louis was supposed to have been. But apparently, Harry was wrong about that too.

He doesn’t feel too bad about their arrangement. He really doesn’t. He never led him on, he never pretended they had something that they didn’t and he never, not ever, asked for more than what he was willing to give. Still, things changed along the way. Not in a crazy way, not in a “from zero to a hundred way”, but the more that they slept together, the more they’d linger in bed talking, the more Louis would joke and the more Harry would laugh.

And the more time Harry spent with him, the more he started respecting Louis. Still, there was always a voice in the back of Harry’s mind telling him not to let himself _actually know_ him, because Harry _hates him_ . Or, well, he was told he _should_ hate him. But he doesn’t.

Holy fuck, he doesn’t hate Louis. He hasn’t hated him in _so_ long it’s insane. Insane and scary and… New.

Yes, new, because as he stares at the ceiling, at the fan spinning and spinning and spinning, Harry realizes how long he’s been lying to himself and to everyone else about what’s been happening between him and the attending. They weren’t having casual, random fucks. They got to a point in which they were almost friends with benefits, and _that_ … That Harry gets.

Friends with benefits are something. Friends with benefits aren’t _nothing_. And he told Niall that’s what they were.

Isn’t Harry Styles a jerk?

 

-

 

When Louis shakes him awake, Harry feels as though he’s just closed his eyes.

“It’s eleven a.m.” The attending says. “I know you said your shift was only at night, so I can drop you off at home now if you’d like.” Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard Louis speak that fast.

“No, I…” Harry yawns, “I’ll go to the hospital too, if that’s okay.”

“You don’t have to. You’re off.”

“I’m an _intern_. Of course I have to.” He grimaces.

Louis says they’re leaving in ten, so Harry’d better hurry up.

 

He gets up and brushes his teeth. When he gets back to the bedroom, there is a clean shirt on the bed for him. Harry smiles absentmindedly and puts it on. It’s a dark green and it’s a button down, so Harry tucks it in front of his skinnies, and fastens a few buttons up until his nipple. The shirt is a bit tight on him, but it still looks good. He’s never entered that hospital so well dressed, but… There is a first time for everything.

He puts his hair up in a bun and closes his leather backpack, then he folds the blanket and makes the bed the best he can with the short time he has.

 

“Oh, fuck you.” Louis slaps his head as soon as Harry shows up in the living room. “Why do you have to look like this?”

“You were the one who lent me the shirt.” Harry chuckles, taking the coffee mug the attending is offering him.

“Well it doesn’t look like _that_ when I wear it.” He replies annoyed.

“’S because it’s tighter on me, with you being smaller and all-“

“Oi. Shut up.”

Harry laughs loud and almost spills coffee everywhere. Louis gives him three minutes to finish that mug, but Harry does it in two. Then they’re on their way.

 

When they enter the hospital, Louis asks him how he’s doing.

 _Fine_. Harry’s doing fine. He takes a deep breath before going in, but when he follows the attending to the surgical floor, he already knows today’s going to be a better day, simply because it has to be. It just starts a tiny bit weird…

The elevator door opens on the third floor and Nick enters it. He assesses Harry’s body and then stops on his chest.

 

“Nice shirt.” He smirks.

“Morning.” Harry replies.

“Did you guys have a good night? You feeling better, Styles? Loose?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not- there’s nothing anymore.” Louis spits out. “Spread the word. The attending _isn’t_ screwing the intern anymore.” He smiles, but it’s cynic.

“What the fuck did you do?” Nick looks at Harry. He’s half amused, half angry.

“I-” Harry swallows hard. “I lied about something. Now Louis is pissed off and won’t fuck me. Do you need more information or…?” He asks. Truth is, he’s a bit annoyed, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh my-” The plastic surgeon starts, but Louis cuts him off.

“You really are the Devil. You're aware of that that, aren't you?” He turns to Nick. “If the Devil took physical form, it'd be you.”

“I’m not the Devil…” Louis’ ex husband laughs.

“How come you haven’t gotten on your broomstick and gone back to New York where you belong?”

“Oh, Lou-eh, stop being petty.”

“Stop being an adulterous bitch.” He says pointedly, and crosses his arms.

“It's a bout time you forgave me, you know?" The ex husband sighs. "- I mean, there was a time when you thought of me as your best friend.” Nick tells him seriously.

The elevator doors open, and Louis steps out.

“There was a time when I thought you were the love of my life. Things change.” He then walks away. They’re not even on the surgical floor yet.

 

Nick doesn’t say anything else to Harry, and Harry keeps his head down. When they finally reach their floor, they wish each other a _good day_ and go their separate ways. Harry finds an empty on call room and falls asleep again, hoping to only wake up when it’s time for his shift.

 _Today’s gonna be a good day_ , he keeps in mind.

 

 


	11. MEET ME IN THE HALLWAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves, sorry for the delay. I went away for the weekend and just got home.  
> Thank you SO MUCH for all your comments on this fic, they make me so so happy. Really.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> <3
> 
> WARNING: this chapter contains mentions of kidnapping and rape.

  
  


It’s hot. It’s very freaking hot, and sunny, and as June ends and July begins, Harry finds himself sweating every time he isn’t in an air-conditioned space. And he hates it - he hates feeling disgusting, so the first thing he does when he gets a morning off for the first time in God knows how long is call a company so someone can fix their AC in the house.

Ages ago his mother told him there was a central one at the place, and Harry never bothered to check it until now. As it is, he spends two and a half hours dealing with it until he can finally pay the nice man who came there to take a look at it in such short notice, and then he’s finally feeling a little bit better.

Life has been… Okay. Harry’s not so shaken anymore about having lost a patient, and the nightmares he had on the first few days are mostly gone. It still sucks to see people die. It’s always going to suck to see people die, but he has schooled himself to understand that it is part of the job, and it will happen, and he’ll have to do his best to get over it as quickly as possible so he can focus on saving who’s still alive.

Talking to Louis helped him a lot. Yes, his friends hugged him and Jade spent an entire night talking to him about it - being the only one of their little intern group that’s been through it herself. Harry even called his mother, and even she comforted him, the best way Anne knows how: “You’re not special, you’re not the only one who loses patients, so don’t let it go to your head”. 

But Louis helped him the most. Maybe because he was careful yet realistic, maybe because he was patient and kind when Harry really didn’t deserve it. Maybe because he finally gave Harry some peace about what really happened with his father. The point is: Louis helped. He helped Harry as a friend, and Harry was okay with it then, but he’s not really sure he’s okay with it now.

 

Life is confusing. He knows that. He never expects a magic solution to come up because he’s given up on those long ago. But in the last few weeks things have taken such a different turn in his personal life that they’re very hard to be ignored the way he is having to do right now.

Louis said he doesn’t hold himself totally responsible for Des’ death. Harry isn’t sure he does either. Sure, he was on his case, and he participated in it, but- but Louis was a  _ toddler,  _ and Harry’s father was already so, so debilitated that he himself, as a doctor, doesn’t believe he would’ve been saved anyways by the time he got to the hospital that day, all those years ago.

And if that was the only reason why Harry hated him, now it seems just foolish to keep pretending his attending is someone actually detestable. Everyone loves him. As cocky and irritating as he is, everyone just seems to be absolutely in love with Louis Tomlinson: the other attendings, the chief, residents, interns, nurses. 

During this time that they haven’t been sleeping together, Harry started to notice things about him. Louis is loud and funny and bright. Harry knew he was a brilliant doctor before, but now that his eyes are even more open it’s difficult not to see every little moment he turns out to be the most intelligent person in the room. The other day even Zayn had to admit Louis was right - when attendings were arguing over a trauma patient -, and for a cardio surgeon to say something like that is… Rare.

 

They’re friendly, most of the time. Louis and Harry. They work well together, and now Harry takes orders from him way better than he did a month ago. He’s more mature.

Some moments in life change a person forever, in good and/or bad ways. Losing a patient because of his own mistake kind of changed Harry for the better, he likes to think. And now he is turning a new leaf. Hopefully.

 

-

 

Harry gets to the hospital around lunchtime. He was too lazy to cook for himself and decided to eat something at work, since all the girls are still working and will probably eat there too.

As soon as he arrives he texts Niall, and his friend is waiting for him at the cafeteria. Niall isn’t the only one there. At the residents and attendings table, Nick Grimshaw and Caroline Flack laugh with Rita Ora, and everyone seems to be unaware of how bored Ed looks. Harry thinks about going over there and inviting him to sit with him and Niall, but when he sees who’s sitting at the next table, Harry decides against it.

 

“Who’s that with Doctor Tomlinson?” He asks Niall instead of saying  _ hello _ .

“Good to see you too, Harold, how was your morning off? Did you get your AC fixed?” His smile dies at Harry’s stare. “Don’t know, bud,” he replies finally. “He arrived earlier and waited for Doctor Tomlinson to have lunch. They seem pretty cosy.”

“Hm.” He grunts. “Whose service are you on today?” Harry asks.

“His, actually,” Niall cracks up a laugh. “Don’t worry, Hazza, I’ll find out something for you.”

“I don’t wanna know anything.” He rolls his eyes.

“Sure you don’t,” his friend snorts and then pats his back. “C’mon, let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Harry tells him.

“Don’t care, dude. I waited for you to eat, so you’re eating.” He pulls Harry by his shirt. “Up we go then, c’mon…” He starts walking and pulling Harry, so the intern rolls his eyes and starts walking voluntarily.

They stay in line for about five minutes, and throughout those five minutes, Harry stares at Louis and his date. The man has dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, too, but not as piercing or shiny as Louis’s. He seems to be taller than the attending, but still a bit shorter than Harry. He holds Louis hand and makes him laugh. At some point they share a kiss - just a slight touch of lips, but Harry burns on the inside.

_ He _ wants to kiss Louis; he misses kissing him. He misses his touch and his hot skin and his smart mouth; he misses having his tongue everywhere and he just- Harry really needs to get laid. Problem is, there’s no one that really interests him at the moment. 

When they get back to their table, Nick is sitting there, and so is Ed by his side.

“Hey, there,” Harry smiles at them. He genuinely likes Ed, and Nick isn’t too bad. Sometimes.

“Hey, just letting you two know I’m your resident today, Liam’s out with the flu- he came to work, but it wasn’t pretty. Chief sent him home and gave me you for this shift.”

“Sick,” Harry’s smile spreads on his face. “At least some good news today. Not that I don’t like Doctor Payne, I just- you know what, I’ll shut up.”

“What kinda bad news did you have today, Harry Styles?” Nick asks and sucks on a straw, making an obnoxious noise. “Is it what I think it is?”

“What?” Harry pretends that he doesn’t understand. “It’s nothing, Sir. Everything’s alright.” He promises.

“Whose service are you on again today, Styles?” He asks.

“Uh-” Harry looks at Ed.

“Mine, I’ve just said it. And we’re scrubbing in with Doctor Malik in half an hour. I’m going now, but you’d better eat fast.” He ruffles Harry’s hair as he gets up, and then fist-bumps Niall.

“I know he knows,” he tilts his head to Niall’s side, “so I’ll just say it now.” Nick starts as soon as Ed vanishes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, what?” He frowns at the attending.

“I think he’s talking about Doctor Tommo, Hazz.” Niall is unhelpful.

“He knows what I’m talking about.” Nick supplies. “Are you really going to let Louis go after everything he’s done for you?”

“Excuse me, Doctor Grims-”

“No, I don’t. Louis has been covering your sorry ass since you got here, or so I’ve heard. Not in a way that privileges you, I told you he’s not like that. But he shelters you. He makes you believe that you’re great and everyone else are pricks, but that’s untrue. You’re an absolute asshole, Harry Styles.”

“Oi, dude-” Niall comes in his defense.

“Louis has no idea of how in love with you he is; how fast he fell for you. I, for one, cannot see  _ why _ .” 

“He’s not in love with me.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He raises an eyebrow and looks over at him and his date.

“How did you even get into med school being this thick remains a mystery to me.” Doctor Grimshaw says as he gets up. “Don’t lose him.” 

“Louis is not mine to lose.”

“Then change that.” Nick gives him a last warning and walks away.

“Jerk.” Harry focuses back on his food.

“Harry, if Doctor Grimshaw who is Doctor Tomlinson’s  _ ex husband _ thinks he has feelings for you and you’re letting it pass, then you’re even a bigger idiot than I thought.” Niall tells him.

“Why’d you think I was an idiot?” He asks, a bit outraged.

Niall shrugs and Harry punches him lightly, making his friend laugh.

“D’you like him?” Niall asks in a lower voice.

“Don’t know. I liked fucking him. Never paid much attention to the rest.”

“Because you hated him?”

“Yes.”

“Because he killed your father.”

“Yes.”

“But  _ did he _ ?” The Texan doctor presses.

“Not… Really.”

“Doctor Tomlinson is one of the nicest attendings and one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever met, Hazz. If there’s a chance you two might be more than just a good fuck, then do something about it…” Niall advises.

“I don’t- I don’t know.” He says as he eats. It’s a bit disgusting.

Niall’s page beeps.

“Figure it out.” His friend winks and then is gone too.

Harry finishes eating and runs to the pediatric floor, where he meets Jenna and Michael Cole, Zola’s parents. Harry thinks the name of the baby is very cute.

 

“Styles, present.” Ed orders.

“Jenna Cole, thirty one, seventeen weeks pregnant. An initial ultrasound scan at nine weeks showed the baby’s heart and part of her stomach started to grow outside of her body. Doctor Sheeran did an ultrasound at sixteen weeks, and found that while Zola’s bowel moved back to the correct position, her heart’s still out of place.” He finishes.

This case is as cool as it is heartbreaking. No pun intended.

“This is Doctor Malik, Jenna, I told you about him…” Ed says as Zayn steps forwards. Harry’s kind of giddy to be working with him again.

“Hi, Jenna, Michael.” He attempts a smile. He doesn’t smile much. “Zola, your baby, has a condition called  _ ectopia cordis _ , literally translating to ‘out-of-place heart’. This is a heart abnormality that develops during the early stages of development in the uterus. The condition causes the heart to form either partially or wholly outside the chest cavity, generally on the neck, chest, abdomen, or cervix.

In this case, Zola’s heart is close to her neck, which complicates her airways even more than they already would, with it being out of place and all.”

“And you can fix it, Doctor?” Michael asks him, eyes hopeful.

“I’m confident we can operate while Zola’s still inside, yes. In Europe, this surgery has been performed twice once the baby was born, and only one survived. Here in the US, it has been tried three times with the baby inside the uterus, and only one survived, too.”

“Oh Lord.” Jenna hugs her husband, tears in her eyes.

“It is important to mention that the only baby who survived in this country did it thanks to him.” Ed steps in. “Doctor Malik is one of the very best in his field. I would  _ never _ recommend this surgery if it were any other surgeon. But if there is a heart problem, this is the man you go to.”

Zayn  _ blushes.  _ Harry is sure Liam would be endeared.

“And when would you perform the surgery, Doctor?” Michael asks again.

“Today.” He says. “The longer we wait the riskier it gets.”

“I want to do this. I want to try.” Jenna says, and then looks at Ed. “This is really our best option?”

“It really is.” He says. “I’m sorry. But we are doing everything we can. You and Michael have to meet us halfway.” They wait for a second, and then both the woman and his husband nod. “Doctor Styles will bring the papers for you to sign and answer any questions you have, then he will prepare you for surgery.”

“See you in a couple of hours. I’ll do my very best.” Zayn says, nods at them, and then exits the room.

Harry says he’ll be right back and follows him outside, and Ed does the same.

 

It isn’t going to be easy. Just talking about it makes Harry a bit nauseous, especially when he has to go through the whole process with the parents. But then two hours later he is the OR, and comments about how sad he is with this, and that babies who aren’t even born shouldn’t have to go through that.

“She’s already got a broken heart and hasn’t even seen the world yet.” He says, looking inside Jenna’s uterus while the resident and the attending work fast.

“She  _ is _ really small still…” The resident looks down.

“Nothing’s stronger than the human heart,” Doctor Malik says. “It shatters over and over, and it still lives.”

“That… Is very poetic.” Ed comments.

“Doctor Malik, if I may…?” Harry asks, Zayn nods. “I believe Doctor Payne appreciates poetry.”

The entire OR chuckles.

Zayn gives him a killer look, and then…

“Piss off,” he smirks. Two seconds later, he looks serious again. “No one heard this here.”

The entire OR chuckles again, and they go back to work.

It’s always pleasant, working with Zayn. So much so that Harry is almost believing he is going to have a good day at this hospital until the Chief pages Ed stat because there’s a helicopter arriving with a very serious case, and, apparently, it’s a kid.

“Ready?” Ed asks him right before the elevator doors open.

“No.” Harry answers truthfully. “Let’s do it anyways.”

 

It’s chaos.

Perrie told Harry a few days ago that she got a case like this, when a person is so damaged that they had to arrive in a chopper because an ambulance wouldn’t have been fast enough, and those are always terrible. The only thing they know is that it’s a girl, and she was hiking. Why someone would hike during summer is beyond Harry’s understanding abilities, but okay.

Everything happens really fast. They take her gurney out of the chopper and the paramedics tell him and Ed her vitals and give him the rundown on the extent of her injuries, but the chief is the one who stays behind, sorting less important details. 

“You’re fine, stay calm, you’re at a hospital, we’ll take care of you.” Harry says as they get her into the elevator.

Her eyes are wide open and she looks so very scared.

And then it hits Harry…

“You weren’t hiking up there, were you?” He frowns. “I figured.” Harry says in a lower voice after the reads her expression. “You’re okay. We got you.”

The girl closes her eyes and sighs. She trusts him.

  
  


-

 

“She has a displaced tibial fracture,” Doctor Flack assesses as they stare at her scans.

“Rib fractures too, lungs look fine… How far did she fall?” Doctor Malik frowns.

“Don’t know, some hikers found her.” Harry offers.

“What is it, Horan?” Doctor Sheeran asks as soon as Niall enters the room with her chart.

“Jane Doe, looks to be around fifteen years old. The chief wants you guys to take her.” He says.

“Uh, you can tell the chief this isn’t a peds case.” Doctor Sheeran replies. “She’s an adult, the growth plates have closed.”

“And tell him this elbow was broken a while ago.” Caroline speaks up. “See the curve in her forearm, and the periosteal reaction on her humerus? These are fractures that never healed right.”

“Or were never treated.” Doctor Malik ponders. “I’ve seen injuries like this in Iraq… In patients who were tortured.”

“You worked in Iraq?” Harry asks.

“I served for years in Iraq. Your mother was the one who convinced me to stay in the US, when I went to work for her.” He responds shortly. “Anyways. This girl wasn’t hiking. And she is a peds case.”

Ed Sheeran sighs and looks down. Harry has never seen him look like this until today. 

“Go get the chief, show him her scans. We have some work to do.” He orders Harry.

“Yes, Doctor.” He nods seriously and then follows Niall.

 

They find Chief Corden in his office, and Louis is there too. They seemed to be talking about something serious, but stop as soon as they see the two interns through the glass. James waves for them to go in, and Harry speaks before he is even asked to.

“Jane Doe was abused. Very much abused. It’s all over her x-rays, we have to call the police.” He’s out of breath. 

“Just calm down, we don’t know anything for sure.” James takes a few scans and Louis takes the images of the brain. “She has an aneurism in her celiac artery… I’ll need to put a graft in, because Payne decided today was the day for him to be sick.”

“Chief, she also has a temporal bone fracture,” Louis shows him. “I’m gonna have to do a middle fossa approach.”

James sighs, much like Ed did, much like they all did.

This day just took a horrible turn.

“Let’s go. Who’s with her?” James asks Niall.

“Doctor Sheeran and Doctor Flack, Sir.”

They all walk together towards her room, Louis and James talking quickly between each other as to what they should do first, and when they finally make it there, the girl is already responsive and looking more or less  _ okay _ . Harry decides now is a good time as ever to make her talk.

“Hey.” He smiles and walks to the side of her bed. “You were running from someone, right? Is that how you fell?” She nods. “No one here is gonna hurt you. We just need to know your name.”

“He called me Suzy. But I think it was… Megan. Meg.” Her voice trembles.

 

Louis runs out of the room as fast as he came in, and no one understands a thing.

Harry excuses himself to go to the hallway and James does the same, while Niall promises he will explain to her the procedures she’ll have to go through next.

“Fuck. She is Megan Hill, James.” Louis says exasperatedly while he rubs his face.

“Do not jump to conclusions.”

“It was all over the news, wasn’t it?” Harry asks. The name does ring a bell. “She was in the grocery store with her mom and somebody just… Took her. It was the summer of… 2006, I guess. I remember that was the only day my mom picked me up at school because she was so scared.” He looks at Louis. “She was probably what? Eight or nine…”

“She was six.” Louis says. “And they weren’t in the supermarket, they were outside. Her mom bumped into a friend, started talking about the… Block party they had that weekend. She talked about salad and dessert and that’s how long it took her to realize her child wasn’t there anymore.” He’s never seen Louis this shaken, this out of control. “But the chief is right, we don’t know if this is her, so let’s just… Wait, for now.”

 

During surgery, the police ask them to find a birthmark on her arm. It’s her. It’s Megan Hill, grocery store girl. 

Once the surgery is over, Louis runs before anyone can catch him.

  
  


-

 

When Harry finds him, it’s already six p.m. Louis is outside the hospital, in the back, smoking a cigarette.

“You smoke too?” Harry snorts.

“Too?”

“Caught Doctor Malik smoking a while ago.”

“Malik?” Louis looks surprised. “He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon, he’s supposed to be an anti-smoking ad.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” Harry smiles and sits by Louis’ side. The attending stares ahead. “Megan is out of the woods for now.” He says and Louis nods. “Are  _ you _ alright?”

“I have four sisters, did you know that?” Louis squints his eyes, looking at him.

“No. You’ve only ever mentioned one.”

“I have four. One set of twins, they’re younger, just turned eighteen. Phoebe and Daisy. Then there’s Fizzy, who’s twenty four. And Lots, who’s the closest to me. She’s twenty seven, just found out she’s pregnant.” He smiles. 

“Uh, congrats to her.”

“Major congrats, you have no idea.” He says, but still doesn’t look at Harry.

“Enlighten me.”

This is, maybe, the first time Harry’s really indulging him. 

“Lots was raped when she was seventeen.” He says. “The only people who know about that are her doctor, our mom, James, and now you.” Louis sighs. “Because I really need someone to talk to.”

“I’m here.”

Now Louis turns his face. His eyes are glassy.

“I cried so fucking much when I found out, I could barely focus on anything, knowing how much my little sister was hurting. Knowing she was one in many who went through that.  _ Not _ knowing if that seventeen year old would ever have a healthy sex life, or would even regain part of her  _ mental _ health after that.

She went to therapy, she did everything she could, she was so strong, Harry.” Louis is crying now. Harry wants to hug him badly. “I’d never seen anyone look so broken trying to keep it together… Until today. The things Megan must’ve gone through… She was- she was six and-”

“Lou.” Harry pulls him in. “Louis, it’s okay, shhh.” He caresses his hair. “We’re all taking care of her, her parents are on their way, she’ll be all right. Your sister’s all right. Megan will be too.”

“I don’t know, I don’t-”

“You’re fine. Everything is going to be fine.” Harry all but promises him.

“I know, I’m just-” He shakes himself. “Overemotional. Ugh. I’m disgusting.” Louis fixes his hair.

“You’re not.”  _ You still look very beautiful to me. WHAT? _

“I’m all touchy-feely here, Harry. Why aren’t you running the opposite direction?” The doctor muses, his humor a lot better now.

“I don’t… Want to.” He realizes. “That okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just make sure this isn’t something else.” Louis says as he gets up.

“Sure. You have a boyfriend now.” Harry mentions, getting up too.

Louis chuckles. 

“Christopher is hardly my boyfriend.”

“Who is Christopher, then?”

“Someone I went on a date with. Or. A few dates.” The attending tells him.

“Right.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy, Styles?” Louis smiles. “Be careful. Someone might even think you have a thing for me.”

He starts walking, Harry grabs his arm.

“I do have a thing for you.” He looks straight into Louis’ eyes.

“I think that what you have right now is some crazy idea in your mind that I’m still available, Harry.” Louis says. “You know, it took Chief Corden pulling me aside and telling me to have some  _ dignity _ for me to realize that the best I could do was walk away from you.”

“You serious?”

“We did have a deal, remember? Or, well, one you decided on anyways. And you told me to walk away if I weren’t satisfied with it.” Louis reminds him. “I wasn’t. So I walked away. Christopher might not be my boyfriend but he treats me as more than a fuck.  _ That _ is something I’m interested in.”

Harry fish-mouths, but he has nothing to say. Louis is right. Louis is absolutely right.

“Shall we go then?” He asks the attending, after just clearing his throat.

“Yeah, H. Lead the way.”

 

-

  
  


“Can you wiggle your toes?” Louis asks the patient. She does it. “Painful?” Megan nods. “Yeah, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell… But you’re doing great, okay?”

Megan nods, so Doctor Leigh-Anne Pinnock, the therapist the hospital has appointed to this case, introduces herself and says the police want to ask her a few questions. Megan allows it, and when Louis realizes his work is done here, he excuses himself and leaves, which makes the room a little less crowded, but still full of people. Ed refuses to go even though she isn’t technically a kid (she is eighteen) and so does the chief.

The police officers ask her two simple questions, and in both cases she looks at Harry, and waits for him to nod so she can answer, almost as if she’s asking for permission to talk, or an incentive, maybe. Harry thinks it is all right, but Leigh-Anne strongly disagrees, and she gets very angry outside the room, where she drags all the doctors with her.

 

“You should’ve called me, but you didn’t, and now our patient has bonded with a surgeon!” She accuses Ed.

“His name is Doctor Styles.” James provides.

“Doctor Styles, fine. That’s who Megan has chosen, there’s no breaking that bond now.”

“What’s really going on?” He asks the therapist.

“Doctor Pinnock thinks it’s better if you stay with Megan until her parents arrive.” The chief tells him.

“But I have no psych training.”

“That girl spent twelve years with little to no control over anything in her life. Our job is to break that pattern by letting her know that she and she alone is in control here; whatever she wants, she gets. Including you. We’ll have to work together on this.” Doctor Pinnock tells him.

“Of course.” Harry answers.

 

When Megan’s parents arrive, a day later, all they want to do is hug her. Once again, she looks at Harry for guidance. He thinks it’s a good idea, but then they both hug her at the same time and Meg freaks out. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes show it all. Harry tells them to give her a bit of space, since she’s still very confused, and the parents agree.

They give him a photo album and a bunny, and ask him to show it to her. When Harry does it, her face is void of emotion. So Harry decides it’s best if he talks about the surgery with her.

“So, today Doctor Caroline will be realigning your arm; you’ll have a lot more mobility in your elbows.” He tries to sound cheerful.

“Did they really think that this would work? Give me some photo albums and a stuffed animal and… We’d be normal again?”

“I think they wanna help you remember.”

“Well then. Tell them that I remember everything. First day of school and my sixth birthday. Just like I remember the first time he made me take my clothes off, and how hard he kicked me when I didn’t act like I liked it, or how I could’ve gotten away a bunch of times, but every time I’d get outside I could hear his voice inside my head that they didn’t want me, that I was dead to them.

And that the reason I finally ran away was because he told me that he was gonna take another girl, because I was too used up and disgusting now. Tell them that. Let’s see if they still want me this damaged.”

Harry does his best not to puke in front of her, even though his insides are twisting.

“You know…” He starts. “Someone once said that damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”

After that, Megan offers him what could be the beginning of a smile. Harry counts it as a victory.

 

-

 

She stays in the hospital a long time. Other patients come and go, other interns too, but Harry stays. He sleeps at the hospital, he eats at the hospital, he doesn’t leave as long as Megan doesn’t. Because of that, he catches onto a few things, one of them being Liam and Zayn going at it in a supply closet. The resident doesn’t look at him for twelve hours straight. Harry’s victorious on the inside.  _ Where’s the whole ‘you’re making my life harder for sleeping with an attending’ speech now? _

He also learns the names of every nurse during every shift, he says goodbye to Nick Grimshaw - who finally returns to New York -, he sees his mother once again for a brief period of ten minutes, and he watches Louis let Christopher down easily from afar. He receives a pointed look from Niall, which says  _ there is your chance again _ , and he pretends to ignore it, at least for now.

Harry scrubs in on more surgeries than he could believe. But, most importantly, he finds out he really likes Megan. The further she goes into therapy, the lighter she seems. With only three weeks Leigh-Anne seems to crack her enough for her to think life is worth living, and now a whole new fight begins. Starting with today.

 

“Uh, Meg,” Harry says, “there is an old fracture in your pelvis that Doctor Flack is concerned about.”

“It’s called an avulsion fracture.” Doctor Flack says. Megan’s parents are attentive to every single detail. “At first I thought it might’ve happened when you ran away, but this injury is a lot older than that. Do you remember when the pain first started or anything that happened right before that? A… Fall, maybe?”

“No, I- I don’t.” Pause. “Oh. Maybe it happened after I had the baby. It was a few years ago, I think it… Died.” Her mother makes an inhuman noise and places both hands on her mouth quickly. Her dad cries. Harry and Caroline try to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… Should I not have said anything?”

Harry pretends he has a 911 page and excuses himself. Now he is the one who is in need of a cigarette, but, since he doesn’t smoke, he goes in search of the only person who’s going to understand him now.

 

-

 

“Hey,” Harry enters the on-call room. “I know I’m not in a position to ask anything, but can I just lay here for a second?” He asks Louis, who is only half awake.

“Sure, Harry.”

He doesn’t turn on the light as he goes in, and he doesn’t go to the top of bed. He lies by Louis’ side, who scooted back and is pressed against the wall, and Harry notices that this is the first time they’re in a bed together doing something that isn’t sexual.

“Megan has Stockholm Syndrome,” he tells the other doctor in the dark. “She kinda likes him.”

“What did Leigh-Anne say?”

“Doctor Pinnock said it’s normal. How can this be normal?”

“Dunno, H. The world is too fucked up.” Even in the dark, Harry can see that Louis has closed his eyes. So he does the same, and doesn’t know for how long they sleep.

 

-

 

It’s only at the end of the month that they reunite in the conference room. Everyone seems happy.  _ Finally. _

“The patient is Megan Hill, eighteen years old. Doctor Malik, want to do the honors?”

“A CT showed a leak in her celiac artery graft and Doctor Payne took her into the OR again. We had to crack her chest and discovered the graft was infected… While we tried to make another one, the patient arrested several times. We performed internal cardiac massage and gave her intracardiac epi, and were able to resuscitate her.” He smiles. “Then Doctor Payne finished repairing the graft.”

“And your recommendation?” James asks with a smile on his face.

“Patient is in good shape now, and ready to go home.” Zayn offers. 

“Good. Cardio has cleared her.” The chief speaks. “General?”

“Cleared.” Liam says.

“Ortho?”

“Cleared.” Caroline raises her hand.

“Peds?”

“Cleared.” Ed sighs happily.

“Neuro?” He looks at Louis, who raises his eyes to everyone. They’re watery again, and Harry wants nothing more than to cross the table and hug him. “Doctor Tomlinson?”

“I-” Louis tries to speak, but can’t.

“I think neuro has cleared her too.” James smiles. “Good job, everyone.”

One by one, people stand up and clap. They won. Sometimes nobody has to die. Today, after some long weeks, was a good day.

 

-

 

“Doctor Tomlinson, may I have a word?” Harry asks him in the hallway. He’s just about to clock out, signing something at the nurse station.

“Sure, Styles.” Louis says, then gestures for Harry to walk with him. “I’m on my way out.”

“I have twelve more hours to go.” He whines.

“Being an intern sucks.” His attending chuckles. “So, you wanted to talk with me?”

“It’s a… Personal matter. Is that all right?”

“Go ahead. But keep walking.” Louis says.

“Uh, okay. Look, I’ve been… Thinking. About what you said the other day, about me not- well, you wanting. I.”

“Harry. Out with it.”

“I miss you.” He blurts out. “Like, the parts of you that I know, at least. I talked to my mother on the phone the other day and she said that I was off. Asked me if there was a boy on my mind.”

“Anne Styles, who didn’t call you on your birthday, asked you, and I quote,  _ about a boy _ ?” Louis frowns and laughs, pressing the button to call the elevator.

“Apparently she knows about us. That week when everyone found out, she did too.”

“And didn’t cut our heads off?”

“She admires you. Says at least my father death’s meant something or something like that. Look-  _ not the point right now _ , I don’t wanna talk about my mother.” Harry says. 

“What is the point then?”

“ _ The point  _ is that a woman who knows little to nothing about my life noticed that I was different. But the only difference between when she last saw me and  _ now  _ is, well, you.”

“I sometimes forget how young you are.” Louis says as they enter the elevator. “I mean, you’re very mature and you’re… Enchanting and- and ten years younger than me which shouldn’t mean much, but it does.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowns.

“Christopher and I are probably never going to get serious. And d’you know why?” Harry doesn’t. “Because he is an architect.”

“And… Your schedules didn’t match?”

“No.” Louis laughs. “Not that. We didn’t work for the same reason Nick and I didn’t.”

“He cheated on you?”

“Shit. No.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know.” He laughs again. “Chris is an architect, Nick is a plastic surgeon. Do you know what they have in common?” The elevator doors open and they step out. The lobby is crowded, and loud, and Harry only has eyes and ears for Louis. “They are both perfectionists. And they want everything by the rules so it’ll end up pretty.  _ I  _ don’t need pretty, and I don’t need perfect. What I need is for things to work.” Louis says. “And until you’re sure you want things to work with me, Harry, I really don’t want to get involved with you.”

“But I-”

“I know this is hard for you, with who I am and the situation you’re in, but- I know what I want. And as much as I want to, I can’t help you figure out what you want. You need to sort that out on your own.” He offers him a calm smile, squeezes his hand quickly and lets it go. “Have a good shift, H.”

Harry nods. He has a two second delay, but then he finds his voice again.

“Have a good night of sleep, Lou.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Also, I just wanna let you know that chapter 13 is the last one, as 14 is going to be an epilogue of sorts.  
> All the love, xx.


	12. DIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could fall, or I could fly  
> Here in your aeroplane  
> And I could live, I could die  
> Hanging on the words you say
> 
> :)

 

It is one of those rare days when nobody dies.

Well, at least not here; not on the surgical floor; not on Harry’s watch; not on his entire shift. It’s not only him who is very happy - all the interns, residents and attendings seem to be in the mood for celebrating. Chief Corden says that the last time this happened for twelve hours straight was so many months ago that this set of interns was still at college, probably.

There is always an emergency, there’s always an accident, someone who bleeds out in surgery. But not today. Today, for twelve hours, right here, everybody lived.

It’s late when they all start to pack and leave, around ten thirty p.m. Harry can only think about going home and burying himself in the couch to watch movies with the girls, but then they’re in the locker room and everyone’s spirits are up, and Zayn of all people knocks on the door and walks in.

 

“Shit, I don’t miss this place one bit.” He chuckles. “Smells like intern.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Harry responds. 

“Do you need anything, Doctor Malik?” Niall asks.

“Yes. You and Styles’ ass at Oli’s bar in ten minutes. I’m paying.”

“You- what?” Niall asks again, Harry chuckles. “We’ll be there, Sir.”

“See ya.” Zayn nods and closes the door again.

“I know we had a good shift, but… What the fuck?” The Texan doctor turns to Harry with a very puzzled expression.

“He’s just happy cause he’s banging Payne.” He says and proceeds to put on his shirt.

“Doctor Malik and Doctor Payne are shacking up? Shit, this hospital is awesome.” He laughs loudly. “Would be better if  _ I _ were banging someone too. But we’ll get there.”

“I can be your wingman tonight.” Harry offers, throwing one arm around his friend’s shoulder. “What do you say?”

“The answer to that will always be yes, Hazza.” Niall laughs. “Let’s go.”

  
  


-

 

When Zayn said he was paying, Harry kind of expected a bigger crowd. As it is, though, there is only him, Liam, and Louis - of course - waiting for them in a booth. Harry orders a beer before he even makes it to the table, and when he sits across from Louis, the neurosurgeon clinks their mugs together, and says something that sounds a lot like  _ cheers, dude. _

And Harry is about to make fun of the attending for calling him  _ dude _ , since they were, you know,  _ involved _ , but two seconds later another man slides by Louis’ side and kisses him on the cheek, and everything gets clearer. The intern thinks he can control his surprised - and maybe disgusted - face, but by the way Niall kicks him and Liam clears his throat, he might be wrong.

 

They don’t drink a lot, only enough to be pleasantly buzzed and unable to play darts. Niall and Zayn still try, though. It’s a shit show, but it’s a good distraction, especially when Christopher starts kissing Louis in the middle of the bar as if they aren’t in public. Louis quickly stops him, and says he isn’t the biggest fan of PDA, but his eyes are trained on Harry - almost as if he is worrying.

Harry snorts and downs his beer, striding to the bar to get another one.

“You know,” Liam shows up by his side, “that time I caught you and Doctor Tomlinson going at it inside his car months ago I thought you were just fucking him for the high. But you have feelings for him, don’t you?”

The intern eyes his resident up and down, then turns back to the bartender again and takes his beer.

“Like you care.” Harry doesn’t look at him when he says it. 

“I’m not a bad person, you know.”

“Not saying you are. You just made it pretty clear you don’t like me.”

“That was the intern speech, Harry.” Liam says.

“Calling me by my first name, that’s new.” He snorts again. Harry is bitter, Liam should just leave him. “And you and I both know I was not referring to the intern speech.”

“I might’ve… Been harsh on you. Because of your relationship with Doctor Tomlinson…”

“There’s no relationship.”

“But- you’re a good doctor, Harry. And a decent person.” Liam offers.

“Uh. Thank you.” He turns to his resident. “So are you.”

“Hope you and Doctor Tomlinson work it out.” He smiles, patting Harry on the back and going back to the table.

 

Harry stays for one more beer, clears his head, gets his shit together and then joins the other doctors.

He doesn’t want to get emotional and say that this is what he’s always dreamed of, but this is kind of what he’s always dreamed of. You see, Anne was always talking about the other doctors as if they were only part of her work life, and that once she was out of the hospital, it was like they barely existed. She’s still like that, if Harry’s not mistaken, and for what he can remember, his father was her only friend.

Harry wonders if Anne has other friends nowadays. He knows she and James have always been on good terms, but he doesn’t think they talk about things that aren’t work with work people. And, to his mind, that is very fucked up.

The people you work with - especially when you’re a surgeon - are the people you see the most in your entire life. They can know all there is to know about you, just because you practically live together. Even when you’re not trying to get to know them, you end up catching things along the way.

It’s been less than seven months, but Harry already knows Zayn is always late when he has a quiff - probably because he spends a long time on it at home. He can never operate without his lucky cap, and there is a nurse called Nancy that always makes fun of him for it. Liam is moved by Coca-Cola and he works out during his shifts, sometimes, to keep his body healthy - at least on the outside. (He really can’t understand what is it with doctors who don’t take care of themselves.)

Liam also calls home three times a week, usually after lunchtime, before they go on rounds again - at least that’s what Harry gathered, from the afternoon shifts. Niall is an open book and tells him everything - the man is a sharer and there is nothing wrong with that. Harry thinks he knows more about Niall than he knows about everyone else, with the exception of himself.

He doesn’t think about Louis, not now. He isn’t sober enough for that. He just gets to the table and finds a seat - ironically, by the neurosurgeon’s side.

 

“Where’s Christopher?” Harry asks him in a low voice, since everyone is engrossed in conversation.

“Went home. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Hm.” He grunts. “Did he kiss you goodnight or do you need me to?” He asks in his ear.

“Harry, please.” Louis sighs.

“Are you two serious?” He asks.

“You know we’re not.” He responds. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss  _ you,  _ especially not when you’re like this.”

“I’m not like anything.”

“You’re drunk, sweetheart,” Louis places a loose strand of hair behind Harry’s ear.

“I miss you.” He looks down. Harry says it in such a low voice he isn’t sure Louis hears it, but then the attending’s hand falls on his own lap again and Harry knows he did.

“Like I said, you’re drunk.” Louis tells him, eyes sad.

Why the fuck did Harry make him sad?

“Hey, you-” Zayn throws a peanut at Harry’s face. “What would do if you had a lot of money to spend?”

“I do have a lot of money to spend,” Harry says.

“I hate how rich you are.” Niall groans.

Harry laughs.

“I guess I’ll build a house at some point. From scratch, I mean. Find some land, build a house. That’s what I want to do with my money.” He hopes he actually gets to do it one day.

“What about you, Tomlinson?” Zayn asks.

“Don’t know, to be honest. I have everything I want for now. And I get to help my family. It’s all good.”

“If I had your kind of money, I’d buy a boat.” Liam says and everyone chuckles.

“You know… That’s not a bad idea, Doctor Payne. It’s summer. And I like boats.” Louis says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

The conversation continues and Harry pretends he doesn’t scoot closer to Louis just so their legs are touching, his clouded mind telling him that if Louis found this disrespectful he’d probably say something. At some point he plays connect the dots with Niall on a napkin, and this whole day is so, so crazy, that Liam and Zayn kiss right there - it’s very fast and Liam goes very red instantly, but it’s funny.

Harry thinks the resident won’t ever give him shit for sleeping with an attending again. Not after the recent events that took place in this bar.

 

“Look at it, it’s awesome!” Louis exclaims, turning his phone screen for everyone to see.

“What did you do?” Zayn frowns.

“Bought a boat!” He smiles. Fuck, he’s so handsome.

“What? Excuse me, Sir.” Liam grabs the phone and stares at it in disbelief, then passes it to Niall and the intern does the same.

“Are you crazy?” Zayn chuckles. “What are you calling it?”

“Johanna. ’S my mom’s name.” He smiles. “Gimme my phone, gonna send her a picture.”

“’S too late.” Liam comments.

“She’ll get it in the morning.” He smiles.

 

-

 

Harry makes it home at around three a.m., and Niall decides to stay over, because his place is closer and the world is sort of spinning for him too. Jade, bless her, is still awake and gets them both some water, putting two grown men to bed.

She turns gives them both blankets, because with the AC working full force it gets very cold - thank God -, and wishes them a good night.

 

“Hey, Hazza. You all right?” Niall asks him one more time.

“I’m fine.” He huffs out and turns on his side.

“You said it so many times it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.” This is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

 

-

 

Friday shifts always get the best of Harry, he doesn’t know why, but every Friday he shows up at the hospital, he feels like a part of his soul is being eaten away. Go figure.

Being on Ed’s service always makes things better, but truth be told, working with kids usually has more cons than pros. In the first twelve hours during the night, Harry is puked on, spat on, listens to three children cry, deals with four nervous parents and when morning comes, Harry begs Ed to let him shower and eat. 

 

“You look peachy,” Jesy makes fun of him when he starts chewing an apple. “Working in Peds?” Harry nods. “I love it. Might be my specialization after all.”

“You for real?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Neuro.” He admits. “Need more OR hours, though.”

And it’s true.

He hasn’t been on Louis’ service much lately, and even though this is a good thing - they needed to be apart for a little while -, Harry feels like now is the time to start  focusing on what he wants to do.

Of course they only want an answer from fifth year residents, but word around is that Liam Payne started his residency knowing what he wanted to do, and now he is who he is, so… Harry wants to follow in his footsteps. All in all, he really does admire his resident.

 

He’s just starting to drink his coffee when he is paged. He drags his body there as fast as he can, and finds Doctor Ora calling his name. Liam’s on a surgery with the chief and she was the one available to run the ER.

 

“Morning.” He says as he approaches.

“Gabriel, this is Doctor Styles, he and Doctor Sheeran will take care of you today.” She smiles. “Just give me a couple of minutes.” Then she pulls Harry by the arm and closes the curtain behind them. “Where the fuck is Ed?” Rita whispers.

“I don’t know, I was having breakfast when you paged.”

“Ok. Uh, I’ll page him. Kid’s got a broken arm, but something’s off. Talk to the parents, take him to CT and wait for your resident.”

“All right.” He smiles.

“And Doctor Styles?” She smiles. “Good morning.”

  
  


“Hi, Gabriel, how are you?” Harry opens the curtain and smiles at the patient. “Hey, how you doing?” He smiles and shakes the parents’ hands. 

“We’re fine, Doctor, thank you- Gabe, he… He fell this morning when we were taking him to school and we think he broke his arm.” The mom explains.

“Uh, he definitely did, that is nasty…” Harry whistles and the boy smiles. Harry quickly reads his chart and finds he is thirteen years old, isn’t taking any heavy pills and has broken some other stuff in the last couple of years. “How you holding up, pal?” He asks.

“I’m okay. Not my first rodeo.” He smiles. 

“Does it hurt much? Did Doctor Ora already give you something for the pain?” Harry asks again and the boy nods. “Okay, then. You’re very brave, seem to be doing very well.” He smiles. “Here’s what we are going to do. We’ll put a cast on you, and then run a few tests just to make sure you’re okay, how does that sound?”

“Run tests for a broken arm?” It’s the father who talks this time.

“It’s protocol, Sir. And it’s going to be quick, but just to be sure, while we wait for the results, we’re going to transfer Gabe here to a room, where you’ll all feel more comfortable.” Harry plasters a smile on his face. “All right? Good, then. I’m going to prepare the cast, and the nurse will bring you to me. Question, what color do you want it?” He asks.

“I get to pick a color?” The boy smiles. “Sick. Want it green, Doctor Styles.”

“You got it.” Harry winks and walks away.

 

He pages Doctor Flack just to inform her of the occurrence and she gives him the permission to work on the boy by himself. Harry proceeds to prepare the cast and a few minutes later a nurse shows up with the boy on a wheelchair. 

It all goes smoothly, and the boy confesses that of all the bones he’s broken over the years, this is the coolest cast he’s gotten. Harry’s insides twist a bit, and he really doesn’t want to think about one - or both - of his parents assaulting him, but this is the only thing that comes to mind at the moment.

 

Once they’re done with it, Harry takes the boy to CT, and waits for the results. 

 

“Shit.” He whispers when the images start to load.

He has healed fractures on his other wrist, both feet and… Ribs? What the-

“Look at this.” Harry says as soon as Ed enters the room. “He’s hurt all over. I think the parents did it. I mean- they say he falls a lot, but this is crazy, Doctor Sheeran…”

Ed stays quiet for some good fifteen minutes staring at the images. Seven of them focusing on his brain - Harry counts.

“One thing we learn on the job, is to never trust parents.” He says. “But to also trust them, sometimes.” The doctor chuckles. “Right here, Doctor Styles.” He points. “Can you see it?”

“What am I looking at?” Harry squints his eyes.

“Not entirely sure, but… Page Tomlinson.”

 

-

 

“It’s a tumor.” Louis confirms.

“Fuck.” Ed looks down.

“Very small, but see there…” He points with the light. “It’s here, in the temporal bone, right behind his left ear. It affects his balance.”

“He falls a lot.” Harry repeats robotically.

“That explains why.” Louis says. “How old?”

“Thirteen.” Ed says.

“I can go tell the parents.”

“Will you operate?” Harry asks.

“It’s inoperable.” Louis looks down. “Unfortunately.”

“But you’re… You. Doctor Tomlinson, c’mon.” Harry pleads.

“I do not need to give you the heroes speech again, do I?” Louis stares at him. “Good. Now let’s talk with the parents.”

Doctor Sheeran collects all the scans and together the three of them walk up to the kid’s room. With this kind of news, they first talk to the parents and then with the kid. It is protocol, they say, but Harry doesn’t always agree with it. And what happens today is the main reason why.

When Doctor Tomlinson and Doctor Sheeran give the parents the news, they don’t act surprised at all. Because they aren’t. Because their son has been diagnosed over one year ago, and he’s only got four months to live now, so they wanted to keep a sense of  _ normalcy _ in his life. Like,  _ hey, you’ve got a tumor that is going to kill you but we’re gonna let you go to sleep and wake up thinking that everything’s all right with you _ .

Doctor Sheeran says that he’ll have Harry work on discharge papers as soon as  possible, and when the parents thank them and enter the room again, Harry decides it’s the time to speak up.

 

“This is bullshit.” He vents. “They can’t keep it from their kids.”

“It’s a shit move, I’ll give you that, but they do have the legal grounds. It is what it is.” Louis says.

“No, it isn’t,” Harry complains.

“Stand down, Styles.” Ed says. “Go get the discharge papers. Thank you Doctor Tomlinson, we got it from here.”

“Welcome, Sheeran.” Louis smiles tightly. “Doctor Styles, I’m operating later tonight, if you’re available, you can scrub in.”

“Uh, what time, Doctor?”

“Eight thirty, I believe.”

“I’ll be off then.”

“Good. You’ll be available.” He chuckles. “Good afternoon to you both.”

 

Harry stalls to discharge the kid. He hates the idea of breaking the rules, but he also hates the idea of lying to a teenager. When he was one and his mother kept things from him it made him so enraged.

In a reckless move, Harry finds Perrie.

 

“Pezz, love of my life, light of my day, how are you doing on this fine Friday afternoon?” He smiles.

“What do you want?”

“I need you. I need someone to lie for me.” He states.

“Wha-” Perrie sighs. “I am truly a worse human being for knowing you.” The girl looks at him. “What do you need?”

 

With the parents out of the way - Harry had Perrie talk them through the process of signing discharge papers (there isn’t really a  _ process _ ) -, Harry makes his way to the patient’s room.

Gabriel is still a bit groggy from the morphine they gave him, after all, Doctor Ora had to fix his arm on the spot before Harry put the cast on, but he is fairly awake, so Harry can talk to him.

 

“Hey, how are you feeling now?” He smiles.

“A bit better.” Gabriel replies.

“So, we got your tests back.”

“And…?”

“And your parents are signing your papers right now, you’ll be home in no time.” Harry explains. “You shouldn’t need more pain meds, but I could prescribe something just in c-”

“I have cancer, don’t I?” The patient asks bluntly.

“You- what?”

“I’ve done my research. No one falls that much just because they’re clumsy.” 

“I used to fall a lot.” Harry grimaces.

“Did you break seven bones in two years?”

“No.” He looks down.

“It’s okay, Doctor Styles. My parents didn’t want me to know, thought I was going to be sad.”

“It’s okay to be sad.” Harry offers.

“I’m resigned.”

“That’s a big word for a thirteen year old.”  The doctor says.

“I read the dictionary a lot.” He smiles. “Don’t cry, Doctor Styles. I know my tumor isn’t operable. It’s okay. I’ll go to heaven, Grandpa’s waiting for me, I’m sure.”

Harry didn’t realize he was crying, but his cheeks are a bit wet, indeed. He rubs his eyes and looks at the boy again, he is about to say something else when the parents invade the room.

“YOU TOLD HIM?” The father screams and goes at him, holding him against the wall.

“Sir, no, I-”

“CAN’T YOU FUCKING HEAR ORDERS? I THINK WE WERE PRETTY CLEAR AND-”

“What is going on here?” Doctor Sheeran enters the room.

“He told our boy. He told him!” The mother cries.

“I  _ didn’t _ .” Harry insists, but the man’s hand is still holding him by his coat.

“I ALREADY KNEW.” Gabriel screams. “I ALREADY KNEW. I’VE KNOWN ALL ALONG.” The kid explains.

“What?” His father is so stunned that he lets go of Harry to turn to the kid. Harry immediately goes to Ed’s side.

“Have you signed the papers, Ma’am?” Ed asks the mother and she nods. “Good. You guys are free to go, and I suggest you leave before this hospital sues your husband for attacking one of our doctors.”

With that, he pulls Harry by the arm and closes the room door behind him.

“Ed, I swear-”

“You were going to tell him anyways, weren’t you?”

“He  _ knew _ .” Harry wails.

“I should report you to Liam, but I won’t. Just keep your head fucking down, Styles, or I swear to God next time you’ll get suspended.”

Ed has never, not ever, talked to him like that.

“Understood, Sir.” He says.

“Good. Round on 2002, 2003 and 2004.” He pats Harry on the back and walks away, probably to do rounds of his own.

 

-

 

At eight thirty on the dot Harry runs to find Louis, but when he gets to the OR it is empty. 

“Excuse me… Have you seen Doctor Tomlinson?” He asks a nurse.

“He’s scrubbing in on OR 3, Doctor Styles.”

“Thank you.”

 

OR 3 is on the other side of the floor, but Harry runs there anyways. At least he’s getting some cardio done.

“Thought you’d be in OR 12.” Harry’s breathless when he gets there.

“I was, but there was an emergency.” He looks inside the room through the glass. “Twenty-eight year old woman, she has a worm in her cervical spine between C3 and C4.”

“A… Worm?”

“Yeah. There’s a chance of complete paralysis; need to get in there ASAP otherwise she could end up quadriplegic.” 

“Holy shit.” Harry absorbs the information. That’s rather cool if he’s being honest. “Uh- do I still get to watch?”

Louis laughs.

“How good are you with your hands, Doctor Styles?”

“You tell me, Doctor Tomlinson.” Harry chuckles.

“You’re impossible.” Louis nods, and finishes scrubbing in. “I’ll need an assist, to be honest. Scrub in properly, then come help me.”

“Are you- are you for real?” Harry’s exhausted, this day has been absolutely terrible, and still, he’s never been so excited about something in his life.

“Well… In my personal experience, you are  _ really good _ with your hands.” He winks and walks inside.

 

Louis Tomlinson will be the death of him.

 

-

 

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” Harry says once they’re out of surgery. It took forever. It’s two a.m., but Harry isn’t even that sleepy.

“Sorry?” Louis looks at him.

“When I said that I missed you. I wasn’t that drunk.” He presses. “I did. I do. Miss you, I mean.”

“I. I miss you too.” Louis looks down. “You know, at the bar, Christopher didn’t leave because he had an early morning.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He said,  _ you know what? You’re wrong about yourself, you totally are boyfriend material. Harry Styles is a lucky man _ .” Louis snorts. “When someone said something funny and I laughed, I always looked around to see if you were laughing too. Sometimes, even if you’re not there, I still look around.” He looks at Harry. “You kind of ruined me, Harry Styles. And I’ve been trying to let you go, but you keep making it harder and harder, and I don’t know why.”

“Maybe because I don’t want you to.” Harry confesses. They come to a halt in front of the attendings room. The floor is mostly empty, only a few nurses going from room to room.

“See. I need more than that, Harry. I deserve more than that. I cannot get  _ more clear _ than this.” Louis almost pleads, one hand already on the door handle.

“When I had my first boyfriend, I told my dad about him, scared shitless that he’d disown me or something. Surprisingly enough, both him and mom were absolutely cool with it, like, seriously, super chill. He was older. I was fourteen, almost fifteen, and the guy was seventeen, I think. That was Dad’s only problem with it all.

His name was Xander and I thought the world of him. He was very problematic and came from a fucked up family, but he made me so, so happy. Just… Staying at his place and not feeling lonely was worth fighting with my parents, you know?

He dumped me within three months, I think. Right after he fucked me, of course.” Harry chuckles. “And then I felt sad, because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed; and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young, and it never fails to surprise you as you get older, as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.” He rests his head on the wall, faces Louis with what he is sure is a tired expression. Regretful, too, maybe. “Xander broke me at fourteen, then Dad’s death broke me at seventeen, and Mom finished breaking me at eighteen. It’s been  _ years _ since I felt loved, Louis.  _ Years _ since I convinced myself I even needed it.”

“Have you…” Louis starts. “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re not  _ broken _ , just- bent?” He asks.

“No. I’m- I’m pretty much sure I’m shattered to pieces.” He smiles sadly. “But somehow, ever since we met, the moments when we’re together were…  _ Are _ the only ones that make me believe I can glue myself together again.” When Harry looks at him, it’s like all the stars are shining in Louis’ eyes. 

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” The other man warns him.

“I mean it.” Harry gets closer. “I’m scared, Lou.” He rests his forehead against Louis’s. “I’m so scared.” Closes his eyes. “But I miss you. I don’t want to stay away from you. You deserve more. And I wanna give it to you. I really do.”

“H.”

“Please… Please, give me another chance.”

Louis response is to kiss him.

And it’s not a desperate one; it’s close mouthed and chaste and impossibly good.

“Come back to mine?” Louis asks.

“Lead the way.”

 

When they get to Louis’ apartment, they are both extremely hungry, so Harry cooks them mac and cheese, because it’s all Louis has at hand. They shower together and exchange thorough blowjobs, the water pressure doing wonders for both men. After that, Louis takes Harry to the bedroom and spreads him on the bed, kissing every inch of his skin the way he’s been wanting to all along, he confesses.

Harry not only lets him, but also tells him this is the first time someone’s touching him like this.  _ It feels good. It feels magical _ , he exhales just when Louis is running his tongue on his hips.

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss, and when they finally fuck, it’s slow, and languid, and deep, and Harry has to blink furiously not to cry, due to this sublime experience.

Harry breathes _ one, two, three _ times, and then he comes. Louis follows him right after, and they both lie side by side for minutes or hours, it doesn’t really matter. They kiss some more, bodies entwined. He draws random patterns on Louis’ left ass cheek and the other man does the same on his chest. They just- stay there, breathing each other in.

Much later, when the darkness is almost gone and the sun is threatening to show up, Louis asks, in a very low voice, if Harry wants to be his boyfriend. And when Harry whispers  _ yes _ , right in his ear, he feels like he’s finally done treading water, and, for the first time, he is able to float.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end now.


	13. SAY IT FIRST

  
  


Harry wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, and it isn’t the hospital’s either, but it’s far from being foreign anyways. He is in Louis’ apartment for the third night straight this week, and he doesn’t even feel bad for it. Thinking now, the only nights he has slept at his own house ever since they got together properly almost a month ago were the ones in which they were working opposite shifts - those are terrible, by the way.

The curtain is half open and the sun is already high in the sky, so it probably means it is after eight a.m., which is a miracle in Harry’s life. You see, even when he does get 24 hours off, he never takes them, only this time it was different. Louis compelled him to actually go out on a  _ date _ to meet his sister, Lottie, who was visiting yesterday, and one bottle of wine led to another, and then Harry decided he would take the extra hours to be in bed instead of rushing back to the hospital.

He doesn’t think about some cool surgery he might be missing, instead, he turns in bed and sees Louis sleeping peacefully by his side, his thirty-five years of age barely showing in his sleep. He looks serene, and his breaths are even, and Harry thinks that if angels were real, that’s exactly what they would look like.

God, his heart is beating so fast! Who would’ve thought he’d be here right now? Less than a year ago Louis was a representative of everything  _ dark _ in Harry’s life. A demonized image sculpted by his own misled brain. Someone he’d never get close to, someone he’d never ever forgive. But now. Now here he is smiling while he brushes the man’s fringe out of his forehead, thinking that if there is a comparison to be made, then it has nothing to do with darkness.

Louis is his sunset. His reminder at the end of horrible days that there is still beauty in the world, no matter how ugly everything else may seem.

“Did you know it’s really creepy to stare at people while they sleep?” Louis mumbles into the pillow and then threatens a smile.

“Funny. Some people would say it’s romantic.” Harry whispers back, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. “Good morning, sunset.”

“Uh?” Louis opens his eyes, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I think you meant sunshine?”

“Nope. I meant  _ sunset _ .” He smiles big. 

“Hmkay, more sleep now, thanks.” His  _ boyfriend _ scoots a bit closer so his head is resting on Harry’s chest. The intern closes his eyes and starts to drift off again, but just like every doctor cliched nightmare, Louis’ phone starts ringing obnoxiously on the bedside table and it doesn’t stop until he curses the four horsemen of the apocalypse while answering it.

Harry decides to sit up and give up sleeping at the first sign Louis is alarmed. There goes resting for a few more hours; here he is, again, going to work with a hangover. Maybe adult life isn’t that different from college after all.

 

-

 

Every patient’s story starts the same way: it starts with them being fine; it starts in the before. They cling to this moment, this memory of being fine, this before, as though talking about it may somehow bring it back. But what they don’t realize is that they’re talking about this to  _ doctors _ , which means that there is no going back.

By the time patients reach surgeons, it means that they’re already in the after, in the hopes that that one person is going to be a hero, so there will be an after  _ after _ this one. 

 

When they get to the hospital, Harry already knows who the patient is. His name is Arthur, and he is Rita Ora’s brother, and just like her, he also goes way back with Louis, so the attending is kind of out of orbit - so much so that he lets Harry drive his car,  _ that’s _ a first.

“Your brother has  _ parasites _ !” Louis exclaims crazily as soon as he finds Rita outside of Arthur’s room. “I cleared my schedule.”

“Thanks, Tommo.” She says. “Hello, Doctor Styles.”

“Doctor Ora.” He nods. “I’m sorry about your brother.” Now she nods, and gives him a close lipped smile.

“He’s groggy,” the trauma surgeon tells Louis then.  “His eyes are open, but I don’t think he is awake.”

“He hasn’t tried to kill me yet.” Louis raises both eyebrows as if he is pondering. “Her brother hates me.” He tells Harry.

“People pick sides in a divorce, Louis.” She rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t,” he says, and pauses. “Well. Not for long anyways.”

“What am I missing?” Harry hates being lost.

“Funnily enough, Archie is one of Nick’s best friends.” His boyfriend explains.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Chief, glad you’re here…” He says just as Chief Corden is approaching.

 

Harry still isn’t used to the man knowing they are in a relationship. As a matter of fact, he isn't much used to anyone knowing they are in a relationship. The first day they arrived at the hospital holding hands was pandemonium. Harry was pulled aside by almost everyone he is remotely friendly with, just to explain  _ how _ that was happening. As if he owed an explanation to anyone.

To his credit, Niall did not say  _ I told you so _ . The girls didn’t give him a lecture either, although every single one of them asked about Louis’ dick. Like,  _ honestly _ . (Harry told them, well, only Perrie, Jesy and Jade. What? He wanted to make them jealous.)

 

While James and Louis are examining Arthur, Harry reads his chart to get more information about the parasites. Everything seems to be going well, until Rita’s brother starts having a reaction to the meds he’s on and Louis orders to take him off the drip.

 

“If he seizes again, he might have permanent damage.” Harry comments when they’re outside the room.

“We’ll have to hope it won’t happen then,” he shrugs, but Harry can see the worry in his face.

“I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get you some coffee. Want something to eat too?”

“Couldn’t stomach it.” Louis says. “Hazz,” he holds his hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Harry kisses his cheek. “I’m actually on your service. That gonna be a problem, do you think?”

“No reason to be.” The attending decides. “You’re fine.  _ Thank you. _ ”

“Be back.”

 

-

 

“Good morning, Harry, can we rent out your room already?” Perrie smiles when they meet in the cafeteria. She’s clearly making fun of him.

“Ha-ha, you’re so very funny.” He gets behind her in the coffee line. “How are you, Pezz?” He asks and hugs her.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Good.”

“How was yesterday with Doctor Tomlinson’s sister?”

It’s very weird that Louis isn’t only his boss, but his friends’ boss too.

“It was great, she and her husband are very nice.” He says. “This morning is kinda sucking, though.”

“Oh, I heard about Doctor Ora’s brother. Is Tomlinson operating?” She asks.

“Don’t know. They’re gonna run some tests, I’m just here getting him some coffee.”

“Long night?” Perrie snorts.

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “But yeah. Long night.”

 

-

 

The second Harry gets to the room, Arthur goes into V-fib. There’s only Doctor Ora and him, so he is the one who has to slam onto the man’s chest, causing him to open his eyes and gasp.

“Holy shit!” Doctor Ora breathes out.

“The hell happened?” Louis rushes into the room.

“He went into V-fib,” Harry explains, “here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.” 

“Still having your interns running stupid errands for you, Tomlinson?” Arthur says, mocking Louis.

“I- offered.” Harry says.

“No matter what you say, he’ll still find something to hate me for.” Louis snorts.

“Oh, is he the boyfriend?” The patient arches his eyebrows. “Rita, is he Harry?” He fake-whispers.

“Harry Styles, nice to meet you.” Harry says.

“Shit, Nick was right. You are hotter than him. At least in my straight man opinion.”

“Not even with worms in your brain you can be fucking nice, Archie. Holy shit.” Louis complains.

Rita’s brother is about to give Louis a smart come back when Niall enters the room with Chief Corden  _ and _ Doctor Flack. James immediately hands the scans to  Louis. People start to talk. There’s a crowd in the room. Wow.

 

“Archie!” Doctor Flack salutes him. “Heard you were gonna let Louis remove those suckers from your brain.”

“Maybe.”

“He is.” Rita interferes.

“I hate surgery. Especially brain surgery.” Arthur comments.

“Yeah… Being a neurologist you probably see a lot of patients post-op who are scrambled eggs up there…” Doctor Flack comments. Harry and Niall shiver.

“Not helping, Carol.” Arthur says.

“Actually,” Louis speaks up. “I’m here to convince you that surgery is not an option. According to these scans, the single cyst you had on your last CT has now multiplied by eight, all clogging the third ventricle. There is no way I could surgically navigate through a mess like that without rupturing one.” He looks down. Harry absolutely hates when Louis looks down.

“So what does that mean?” Doctor Ora pushes.

Her brother holds her hands.

“You’re in a room full of doctors, who are all being very quiet right now. I’m gonna die.” Shit.

“Archie…”

“It’s over, sis. Now please call my wife to pick me up.”

“Arthur.” Louis starts.

“I’ve been to New York and Houston. Doctor Conroy and Larry agree with you.” Arthur speaks up. “We’re good, Tomlinson.”

“NO, WE’RE NOT.” Rita screams. Like, she really does. “I’ve put you in a tiny box,” she turns to Louis. Harry has never seen her like this. “After everything that happened during and after college, we’ve all made you petty and inconsequential and nothing special, so you would fit into this tiny little box that would help us all get out of bed in the morning. You’ve  _ always _ been the best, and  _ we’ve _ always been so jealous of your skills…” She continues. “You’ve been in the box for over ten years, Louis, but now I have to take you  _ out _ of the box, because I need to believe that  _ you _ can do this, that  _ you _ can save my brother. I need you to be  _ Louis Tomlinson _ . I need you to be a god. Just today. Be a god. Please.”

Rita collapses into tears on Louis’ chest, and he hugs her tight, tight, tighter. No one dares to move. No one dares to say a word.

Sometimes Harry forgets how good people think Louis are. How good he  _ is _ .

The neurosurgeon takes a deep breath.

“Okay.” He sighs. “Okay, yeah, uh- Horan. Styles. Let’s hit the books. We’ve gotta do some studying.”

“YES!” Rita jumps and so does Caroline. They hug.

“No. I can’t- I can’t let you do this without being sure and then kill me on the spot. I still have people to take care of, even if I have-”

“No time. Zero, really. Nada.” Louis crosses his arms. “You’re dead the second you’re out of this hospital. And you can’t take care of anyone if you’re dead. Now, this is  _ my case. _ ” Louis says to the entire room. “You’re all capable doctors, and you are the chief of surgery, but I swear to God, we are doing this  _ my way _ . If I win, we win. If I lose, then it’s on me. Deal?”

“Doctor Tomlinson, this isn’t- fair.” The chief says.

“Neither is having eight parasites in your brain.” He shrugs. “Rita, you’d better call his wife. And your mom.”

“No. Not mom.” Archie interferes. “She didn’t go to my wedding, she doesn’t get to come for my worms.” 

“As you wish.” He chuckles. “Let’s go, boys. Today we gotta be gods.” Louis orders and both Harry and Niall follow him.

They’re about to have a long ass day.

 

-

 

As soon as they get to the lab, Niall and Harry carrying more books than they actually hold, Louis helps them place the heavier ones on the table.

“Hazz,” he calls him. “What Archie said earlier… He is treating you as my midlife crisis.” Louis states. Niall is paying attention too. “You are  _ not _ a midlife crisis. You are a real thing.”

“I know, Lou.” He smiles.

“Everyone with eyes knows.” Niall offers.

Harry laughs.

“Thank you, Doctor Horan.” He says to his friend.

Louis also chuckles, but he goes serious just as fast.

“Rita is expecting a miracle. I can’t deliver one.” The attending looks worried. “I’ve seen patients with one cyst in the ventricle, maybe two. He has  _ eight _ . There is no way I can get a scope in there without rupturing one. There’s too many.”

“Maybe you’re just too close to it.” Harry grabs his arm, kisses his shoulder.

He knows Niall is in the room, but Niall is fine - he is one of the few people that doesn’t look at them as if they’re a circus attraction.

“What if there were just one?” Niall suggests. “Explain to me how you would remove just… That one.” He points to a random cyst on the screen.

 

So Louis does. Little by little, he teaches both interns exactly what he would do if they were dealing with only that one cyst. And then the other; and the other.

It takes them almost four hours to come up with a solid plan. Harry goes out and in again with food, and they eat, and laugh a little, and Niall recites the plan over and over again while Harry just hugs Louis. He just- stays there, listening to both doctors, basically two generations discussing the same thing, and serves as moral support.

Sometimes, a person needs an extra heart instead of an extra brain. 

 

-

 

They go back to Archie’s room at around six p.m., all of them. His wife - Addison - is already there, and so is Caroline. The chief joins them too.

“I have a plan,” Louis announces. “Where’s Rita?”

“I believe she said she’d go to the chapel.” Addison tells him.

“Rita doesn’t pray!” He almost laughs.

“Church is not only a museum for good people, Doctor Tomlinson. It’s also a hospital for the broken.” Chief Corden says.

“I don’t feel comfortable with exposing the plan without her here.” He says. “I’m going to page her.”

 

So they wait. In the seven minutes it takes Doctor Ora to get here, Harry watches Louis interact with Addison and Arthur, who is a lot less bitchy towards the intern’s boyfriend now. They tell two stories about college to lighten up the mood, and Harry wonders what a little shit Louis must’ve been back then. There is just so much about him Harry  _ still _ doesn’t know. (But he will. He will.)

“I’m here.” Doctor Ora announces.

“Good.” Chief Corden says. “Doctor Tomlinson, please.”

“All right, uh… I was looking at this all wrong, but with a little help from very bright interns, I’ve come to the decision to deflate each cyst, so the scope can remove them one by one.”

“The cysts will rupture,” Arthur argues.

“I’ll pull them up to the edge of the port with forceps, and then suction out the fluid.” Louis explains.

“Suction would have to be precise.” Harry really doesn’t like this patient.

“It will be.” The intern says before he can stop himself.

Arthur doesn’t spare him a look.

“You can’t do it.” Rita’s brother accuses Louis.

“I think I can.” The neurosurgeon crosses his arms.

“Control the way the cyst ruptures?” Rita asks.

“He can.” Niall affirms.

“No, he can’t.” Arthur says, then looks at his sister and wife. “I know you guys want me to go down fighting, but-”

“Coward.” Louis accuses.

“Excuse me?”

“You are a coward by trade. You’re a neurologist. You feed off us, refer your patients to us, let  _ us _ assume the responsibility, and if something happens, well, Arthur,  _ I can _ assume the responsibility. The question is: can you?”

“Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?” Arthur asks Louis.

“I don’t know. Probably both.” He shrugs.

“If you kill me, Tomlinson, I’ll haunt you every day of your life.”

“Bring it on.” Louis smiles. 

“I hate you.” The other man looks up.

“Why? I’m lovely.” There’s a round of chuckles in the room. 

Harry has to resist the urge to say  _ yes, yes you are. _

 

-

 

There is no assist this time. Louis is alone in the OR and everyone is watching from the gallery. James Corden cleared his schedule to be here, and so did Rita, and Caroline, and Niall and Harry are just hiding from the other residents and attendings, really. They want to see this. They need to see this.

“It’s so weird to see him on the table…” Doctor Flack comments. 

“C’mon, Louis. C’mon.” Rita keeps muttering.

Harry grabs her trembling hand and she looks at him in gratefulness. 

_ C’mon, Louis. C’mon, babe _ , he repeats in his brain.

 

“Entering the third ventricle,” Louis voice comes from the speaker. “Securing cyst number one… Deflating cyst one. Applying suction.”

He only does this when he is teaching. So right now Harry thinks Louis is speaking out loud just to calm everyone down. Maybe himself too.

“Any sign of the scolex?” Louis asks himself. “There it is. One at a time. One at a time. Okay…”

“I need to be distracted.” Rita says out of a sudden. “Someone talk about something other than what’s going on with my brother.”

“Louis is the one who is good at talking about himself. But now he’s busy.” Caroline chuckles.

“He used to be. Louis seems a lot more… Selfless now.” The trauma surgeon comments.

“What happened?” Doctor Flack asks.

“He met Doctor Styles.” James Corden surprises everyone by saying it. 

 

Harry exits the gallery trying not to be noticed and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He calls the person who he never thought he would in a situation like this, and it somehow feels right.

_ “This is Doctor Anne Styles, I can’t talk right now, I’m in surgery. Leave a message.” _

There’s a beep. And then Harry speaks.

“The other day you said I sounded weird. There was a reason for that.” He pauses, but forces himself to go on. “I was sad. Sad and confused and- and sometimes I’m still confused, but I am not sad anymore.

I have a boyfriend. He’s great. He’s a doctor too, and I think you know it. Him. Louis.” Harry takes a deep breath. “He gets me. And I might love him someday. I might love him right now, who knows.” He chuckles. “I haven’t chosen a specialty yet, I feel like it’s too early and I’m waiting to be inspired. I am leaning towards neuro, though. Think I’ve always been. But… I’m  _ good _ , Mom. I think I know who I am, plus when you have someone in your life who you can count on, like, really count on you… I don’t know. I’m just really happy. And I thought you should know. Yeah. That’s it. Bye, Mom. Hope you’re well.”

  
  


-

  
  


Harry meets Louis back in the patient room, and Niall’s there updating his chart while the attending talks to Addison and Rita.

“Hey, there you are.” Louis smiles when Harry shows up at the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay for the whole surgery,” he says. “How was it?”

“The surgery went well. Perfectly, even.” His boyfriend replies.

“Louis was a god after all.” Doctor Ora says and hugs the neurosurgeon once again. “Hey, Lou, Nick’s on the plane on the way here, and we’re all… We’re going to the bar now, wait for him and celebrate, and- d’you wanna come?” She invites him.

Louis seems to think for a bit; looks at Archie on the bed, then at Harry, and finally declines it.

“Nah, I’m all right.” He eventually says. “Thanks for the invitation. Have Carol take care of you, and say hi to my ex-husband when he gets here.” Louis chuckles. 

“You sure you don’t wanna go?” Rita offers.

“Yeah.” He confirms. “Anyways…” He turns around. “You didn’t die, you fucker.” Louis pats Arthur’s sheet covered feet. “It’s been a pleasure being treated by me.” He says and everyone chuckles. “Alright guys… See ya.”

Rita and Addison thank him again, and then Harry and Niall, and they finally exit the room.

 

It’s like Harry’s breathing properly for the first time today.

 

“What are you two doing now?” Louis asks.

“Uh- nothing, Sir.” Niall asks. “Need anything?”

“A beer.”

“But you just-” Harry points.

“With all due respect to my life long friends and my ex-husband, I don’t wanna have a beer with  _ them _ .” He chuckles. “Thanks to Niall here, I have a boat. And it must be nice to sail at night and see the sunrise from it.”

“You inviting us to go on a boat ride?” Harry checks.

“Yes. And Malik and Payne.” Louis smiles. “Malik because he is the one who knows how to drive it. Payne because that’s the only way Malik will come.”

“And me?” Niall asks.

“Because I like you.” Louis winks. “Gonna go home to shower and get some stuff. I’ll be here at one a.m. to pick you all up.” He points at Harry.

“Okay…” Harry yawns. “Later, babe.” He pecks Louis’ mouth.

“Later.” Louis squeezes his waist with one hand. “See ya, Horan.”

  
  
  


-

  
  


They make it to the boat at around two a.m., because Zayn was finishing up a surgery and Liam was assisting him, but when they finally do, all the sleepiness they seemed to be having vanishes and turns into excitement. In all fairness, and for clarification, it isn’t really a boat, but a  _ yacht _ , and it makes Harry wonder just how rich Louis really is.

Louis hands the key to Zayn and tells him to please not kill them.

“I won’t.”

“Well, I trust you more with this than with a scalpel, so.” He shrugs.

“Asshole.” Zayn rolls his eyes and lets his backpack fall on one of the seats.

“You are so much alike. Why aren’t you better friends?” Liam asks; apparently he is just as curious as Harry.

“Because we’re so much alike.” Louis and Zayn say at the same time.

“Aw, Zaynie!” The neurosurgeon jokes.

“Whatever. Let’s turn this thing on…”

 

They all stay close together to talk.

Liam tells them about his day and Harry finds it nice that he is speaking so much. For all Harry knew, he’d always remain that harsh resident that would never get close to his interns or anyone really, and would turn into one of those attendings nobody ever likes - much like many doctors that Harry barely remembers the first name.

He thinks it probably has a lot to do with Niall. Niall has the  _ opening up _ effect on people - when someone is next to him, they feel impossibly comfortable to talk about everything and anything. Harry loves him a great deal by now, he reckons. The Texan man makes inappropriate jokes at the most appropriate times, and always laughs before he finishes a joke, so people always laugh too, more because of his laughter than the joke itself.

 

Harry sits on the floor and watches people talk.

Ever since he was a little boy, he always found it amazing to observe other human beings; their behavior, their mannerisms, their choice of words.

Liam suggests they tell stories from their intern or college years to keep Zayn alert, and the cardiothoracic surgeon begins excitedly, making them laugh and cheer loudly as they hear his story. Apparently he got married in Vegas, one summer. To a woman, no less. He insists on saying that it was the most traumatic time of his life.

“I couldn’t picture myself doing something like that,” Niall comments.

“What? You’d totally get drunk and marry someone in Vegas!” Harry accuses him.

“I’d never ever marry someone anywhere, period. Ugh, no! God forbid.” He shrieks, and takes a large gulp from the beer.

“What?” Harry laughs.

“Marriage’s just not for me. I don’t believe in it.”

“Why not?” Louis asks. He’s got one arm around Harry’s shoulder and the other holding the beer that they are sharing.

The night summer breeze kisses their faces and hair in the softest, most pleasant way, and Harry wishes August would last forever.

“Cause most of them just end.”

“So what, because some people get divorced it means you’ll get divorced too?” Liam frowns.

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes things work forever.” Louis offers.

“How did that work for you?” Niall chuckles. Harry stiffens. “Shit, sorry, Doctor Tom-”

“Fuck’s sake, Niall, call me Louis outside work, I’m dating your best friend. And also… It worked wonderfully while it lasted. And then it didn’t. It ended. Doesn’t mean I lost faith.” He shrugs.

“You saying you still believe in marriage?” Harry asks.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” Louis shrugs, kisses his cheek.

“You got your heart broken once.” He says.

“I know. But- if you’re paying attention, like— if you’re listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold evermore wonders.” Louis sighs. Niall and Liam are dumbfounded. Harry’s speechless.

“I mean, I’m a heart doctor, and I agree with Louis.” Zayn offers his inputs.

“With that said,” Harry’s boyfriend speaks again, “please don’t go breaking my heart.” 

“Why, you planning on marrying me?” He chuckles.

“Can’t believe you missed the opportunity to sing  _ I couldn’t if I tried. _ ” Louis chuckles too.

“Lou.” Harry’s wide-eyed. Curious, but not scared.

“Give us one more year, yeah?” He nuzzles Harry’s hair, then kisses his temple.

Harry turns his head and kisses Louis on the mouth. A languid, tongue-filled kiss that leaves their friends a bit uncomfortable, but neither him or Louis cares - and that’s all that matters. Harry hugs Louis by the waist and the other man places a hand on his face, thumb stroking his upper cheek lightly as their mouths move in sync.

The intern doesn’t ever want to get used to this. Every time they kiss, every time they touch, Harry’s insides twist and he actually believes that, together, they could bring electricity to an entire town. Harry deepens the kiss and feels Louis’ tongue exploring every corner of his mouth, and when they go back to tiny pecks and a few bites, he’s all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Harry opens his eyes and Louis is already staring back; feels like he can see his soul, like he’s the only one who  _ can _ .

  
  


When they finally focus back on the conversation, it’s Liam’s turn to tell a story about college, and he seems very annoyed that everyone is agreeing with his teacher and not with  _ him _ , even years later. Harry doesn’t really know what the topic is, but when he pays attention, Liam is saying the following sentence:

“I just think that, sometimes, patient connection is just as important as surgical dexterity. I believed it then and I stand by it now.” The resident looks grumpy.

“Babe, you’re wrong.” Zayn all but rolls his eyes.

Harry doesn’t know how long he and Louis kissed and stayed in their own little world, but when he looks around, the shore is far away, and the cardio surgeon is already turning off the yacht for a bit.

“Why, though?” Liam mumbles.

“Well, nobody ever bled out from rudeness.” Zayn responds and Niall and Harry crack up with laughter. “Louis would know.”

“Oi!” He complains. “I’m not rude to patients.”

“Babe,” Harry chuckles, raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not  _ always _ rude to patients. And you’re one to talk, Malik. We’re one and the same.” He points.

“Can’t argue with that,” Zayn agrees and sips from his coke. He’s the only one who isn’t drinking alcohol, for obvious reasons. He says he doesn’t mind much.

“How so?” Liam asks. “I mean, how are you two alike?”

“For the longest time medicine was the only thing that made sense to us.” Zayn tells him.

“But not anymore?” Liam smiles.

“No. Not anymore.”

“DEAR LORD, WHY DID I ACCEPT TO BOARD A YACHT WITH TWO COUPLES?” Niall cries out to the heavens.

“This is a boat…” Louis frowns.

“This is more of a yacht.” Liam shrugs. “Anyways, more beer, everyone?”

 

So they talk. Oh my do they talk! Harry doesn’t notice the time passing until suddenly it’s four a.m. and they are laughing way too hard and Harry feels genuinely, fully happy. And he looks over and sees Louis and thinks that he  _ could _ be really screwed, but, in reality, he just feels so, so peaceful.

Niall is the first one to fall asleep, and Harry has to give it to him, because he was the one who’d been working longer. Liam and Zayn go to the other side of the boat. Probably to give Louis and Harry more privacy; to give  _ themselves _ some privacy, too.

  
  


“It’s you.” Harry tells Louis.

“It’s me what?”

“Just… It’s you. Because no one else… Nothing else makes sense but you.” He declares. “So thank you, Lou. Thank you for being patient with me.”

Louis places a gentle kiss on his mouth.

“I just want to make you the happiest you’ve ever been.”

“You will,” Harry smiles. “You are.” He now laughs, and lets his body fall back and rest on the pillow. “Wow,” he checks the sky for the first time. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s been so long since I even…”

“ _ You _ are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Louis exhales softly in his ear.

Harry turns on his side just to look at him - and he realizes, not too late, just at the right time, that nothing shines as bright, and nothing warms him more than the man by his side. Louis, with his heart of gold and his stardust soul, found the colors to paint him, where the world had left Harry gray.

“I…” Harry breathes in. Breathes out. “Louis I…”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Louis smiles. “I do too. But I still want you to say it first.”

Harry laughs lightly and kisses him soundly.

  
  


-

 

He doesn’t know when they fell asleep, but it feels as though he barely closed his eyes and his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Morning light is cutting through the clouds and Harry notices is five twenty-five in the morning.

Afraid it is an emergency, Harry gets up and accepts the call without even looking at the caller ID. He rests his body against the railing and stares at the water as he says a soft, sleepy  _ hello _ .

_ “What happened to you?”  _ Anne asks on the other side of the line.

“What do you mean?” He rubs his eyes with his free hand.

_ “You’re happy? You’re happy now?”  _ She snorts.  _ “The Harry I knew was a force of nature. Passionate, focused, a fighter. What happened to you? You’re soft! Stammering about a boyfriend and waiting to be inspired… You are waiting for inspiration, are you KIDDING me?”  _ His mother laughs.

“Mom.”

_ “Listen to me, Harry.”  _ Her tone is harsh.  _ “Anyone can fall in love and be blindly happy. But not everyone can pick up a scalpel and save a life! Your father and I raised you to be an extraordinary human being… So imagine my disappointment when I get a voicemail from you telling me that you are no more than ordinary. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” _

“Dad would understand. Dad would never-  _ never _ say something like this.” He responds.

_ “Well, darling, Dad is DEAD.” _

“YES, and you are  _ alone _ . Because  _ you _ have managed to alienate everyone else in your life and  _ I  _ am the only one left to deal with you.” He tells her. “You wanna know why I’m so unfocused? So ordinary?” Harry’s not going to cry. Not for her. Not anymore. “You wanna know what happened to me? YOU. You happened to me.”

_ “Then stop caring and let me go, Harry.” _

“NO.”

_ “WHY NOT?” _

“Dad is dead, Mom.” He almost laughs with bitterness. “And losing my mother is not gonna be another thing that happens to me.”

_ “Harry.” _

“I  _ am happy,  _ Mom.” Harry says serenely. “I am happy, and in love, and he- he makes me  _ feel  _ extraordinary. And if you can’t see it, then you’re the one who’s ordinary after all. Have a good morning.”

 

When he hangs up, Louis is awake, right by his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just stays there, holding his hand, watching the sunrise by his side. When Harry is a lot calmer, Louis hugs him and says in a very controlled voice.

“Someone once said that cruel mothers are still mothers. They make us wars, they make us revolution. They teach us the truth very early.” He tells Harry. “Mothers are humans who sometimes give birth to their pain instead of children.” And there goes Harry’s plan of not crying over Anne anymore. “You are a beautiful, beautiful thing, Harry.  _ You _ are the revolution that resulted from her own destruction. And you mean the world to me. You always have.”

“Always?” Harry asks. Even his voice sounds teary, but he doesn’t care.

“Always. It was the way you laughed… I knew I wanted that in my life.” He gets closer, Harry turns to him.

“For me, it was your eyes.” He confesses. “Every damn time you looked at me I… I wanted to drown in you that first night.” Louis chuckles. “Thank you. Again. Always.” Harry kisses him. “Louis.”

“Harry.”

“What a plot twist you were…” He states, making them both chuckle. Louis looks down, Harry brings his face up again, guiding him softly by his chin.  _ “Lou.” _

_ “Hazz.” _

“I love you.” He breathes out. “I love you so much.” Harry kisses him. “There…” He whispers to his mouth. “I said it first.”

“Are you sure you didn’t mean you  _ hate  _ me? Cause you used to say that quite a lot…” Louis jokes.

“ _ Babe _ .” Harry whines. “I  _ love _ you.” He kisses him again.

“Hm…” Louis mumbles between kisses. “I love you too.”

 

Louis was unexpected. Harry truly did not expect him, or his  _ effect _ on him, on his heart, his mind, his feelings.

Louis came as the calming sound of the light, pitter-patter of drizzles on a peaceful, unforgettable morning, in Harry’s brutal, destructive hurricane.

And together… Together, they weathered the storm. Together they healed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue coming in a couple of days :)


	14. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here we are. Finally.   
> Thank you all for putting up with me this long. You make me beyond happy.
> 
> I'll be back soon with a oneshot. And there are tons of other stories in the making.
> 
> Much love as per usual,  
> M. xx
> 
> <3

  
  


You never know the biggest day of your life is going to be the biggest. The days you think are going to be the big ones, they’re never as big as you make them out to be in your head. It’s the regular days, the ones that start out normal. Those are the days that end up being the biggest. And today is New Year’s Eve. But it doesn’t feel big at all. At least not right now.

Louis’ phone rings at midday, and he refuses to pick it up knowing exactly who it is and what they want. But then it rings again, and again, and again, and he is obligated to answer it, since turning it off is not an option - Louis is a surgeon, for fuck’s sake. There’s no such thing as a “day-off” even when he  _ is _ on a day off.

 

“How many times do I need to say no?” Is how he greets James.

_ “Oh, Louis, come on!”  _ His boss and old friend complains.  _ “It’s New Year’s Eve, we’re throwing a party, Julia wants you here. Why won’t you come? It’s literally the only time of the year I am off.” _

“You mean to tell me you haven’t gone to the hospital today?” He snorts.

_ “Almost off. You know what I mean.” _

“I just- I want some peace and quiet, okay? I need to sort my head out.”

And it’s true. Ever since Louis moved to Seattle it feels like he hasn’t had time to himself, even though he doesn’t talk to many people here.

He is always at work. Always, even when he doesn’t have to be.

Ever since he separated from his ex-husband, the hospital has been his best friend, the only thing that’s kept him sane. 

_ “We’re gonna miss ya, Tommo.” _ His friend finally accepts. Louis can hear him sighing.

“I’m sorry,” he tells James. “Send Julia my best. I’ll visit soon, just- just not today. Not at a party. Alright?”

_ “Alright,” _ James accepts.  _ “See you at work tomorrow. Happy new year, Lou. ’S gonna be a good one, you’ll see.”  _

“Yeah. Hope so. Happy new year, James.”

  
  


**_-_ **

  
  


He ends up at a bar _ ,  _ because of course he does. That’s where most lonely people go to. Plus, it’s just across from the hospital, and, like he expected, Louis had an emergency surgery in the afternoon, so when it’s eleven p.m. and he can’t take the self pity anymore, he crosses the street and ends up at Oli’s.

The bar is crowded, the noise is kind of infuriating, but the music isn’t bad and he knows for a fact that the drinks here are quite good. He scans the crowd for an empty spot, and when he finally spots it, he walks fast in a straight line to get there.

There’s a tall, curly man sitting by himself too, and Louis is immediately captivated. He doesn’t know anything about this person, only that he is tall, lean, has the best hair Louis has ever seen, and his profile looks stunning. It’s not like Louis has anything to lose when he talks.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks. The man turns around only a tiny bit startled with Louis’ screaming.

“Isn’t this pick-up line a bit old?” Curly smirks. 

“Is it working on you?” Louis smirks back. Two can play this game. Plus, Louis is already winning. This man is definitely  _ not _ straight.

“Maybe…” He drags it out. “Yes.” He then chuckles, and opens a beautiful smile.

“Then I’ll keep using it on the cute boys that are bound to come after you,” Louis states.

“Honest.” The other man looks impressed. He even raises an eyebrow.

“Learned it the hard way.”  _ Shit, Louis, stop being bitter _ . “What are we drinking then?” He changes the subject.

“Tequila.”

“Is this a good idea?”

“Neither is sleeping with you, probably, but I’m going to do it anyways, so…” He hands Louis a shot glass. “Bottoms up!”

 

And they drink.

Louis thinks they drink six shots each, but he lost count after the third one, so. Despite being drunk, Louis doesn’t feel bad. He’s more… Giddy. His insides are twisting in a way that they haven’t in a long, long time. Ten years, maybe. Or more. Fuck if he knows.

They talk about everything but reveal very little. Still, it doesn’t seem like they’re making small talk. They’re just two strangers who are surprisingly very private about their lives, and are beginning to know each other. Even right now, when they’re not sharing much and don’t even know each other’s names yet, Louis can already tell that whatever is going on here is just the tip of the iceberg. 

 

“I literally got here this week.” Curly lets it slide. “Came for a job, start tomorrow.”

“So you’re enjoying your last day of freedom…”

“Something like that.” The other man chuckles again. Louis is already addicted to the sound. “You’re not from here either, are you?”

“No. New York.” He offers. “Am here for a job, too, but it’s been three months, give or take.”

Three crazy, empty months.

“And you haven’t managed to make friends to spend New Year’s Eve with?”

Ouch.

“Didn’t really have the time.”

It’s not a complete lie. He had somewhere to go. James is also his only friend here still.

“In three months?” The stranger is almost alarmed. It’s very cute.

“You’d be surprised.” Louis responds and sighs before downing one more shot.

 

Curly places a loose strand of hair behind his ear and takes to studying Louis, so Louis decides to do the same with him.

Louis supposes that, if you want to be boring and totally cliche, this man’s eyes are green. Grass green, emerald, whatever one-word descriptors you want to use. If you want to go for slightly insulting, pond-scum green or muddy green would work well.

If you  _ ask _ Louis, though? He would probably struggle to paint an accurate word picture of these eyes. Deep, intelligent, a green that provide a sharp contrast to his pale skin and chocolate hair. Green of the sort you’d see on a young tree in the forest, right where the stem meets the leaf.

More than anything, even when the stranger tries to hide it under Louis’ scrutiny,  his eyes seem very, very passionate when they turn upon him. Louis thinks that he would consider himself lucky if he didn’t recognize this situation to be so dangerous. No one is supposed to want another person that much, at least not when they’ve just met.

But then there is his smile as well. There’s the way his lips lift upward and both dimples crinkle as if he is in on a joke nobody else is. The way his teeth are perfectly aligned and the warm glow that the sound of his chuckle gives Louis. His smile is like a ray of sunshine in the middle of the night, and Louis is sunburned.

They’re at this staring contest for so long that they end up laughing despite themselves. And just the sound of Curly’s chuckles are enough to transport Louis far, far away from his worries and the tension of his current life. He finds that he wants to hear it over and over again.

“Has anyone ever told you your eyes are really blue?” The stranger breaks the silence, leaning closer, always closer.  _ Yes _ .

“And  _ I’m _ the one with old pick-up lines…” Louis jokes. “Your eyes are very green as well.” He then smiles, open and genuine and carefree. And he knows they’re both very drunk right now, but the more they talk, the more they scoot closer to each other.

 

When the clock reaches midnight and everyone starts celebrating the new year, the other man pulls Louis in for a kiss that lasts so long that they only stop to come up for air. But then they’re at it again. And as far as first kisses go, Louis is sappy enough to say that theirs doesn’t even feel like it. Because they kiss like they know each other; like they’re not meeting for the first time, but they’re meeting  _ again,  _ after long, long years being separated.

If there is ever a time to start believing in parallel universes and “another life”, then it’s definitely now.

 

-

 

Louis wakes up with someone shaking his body and telling him to wake up non stop. He wants to cry because it’s so cold, he is so comfortable and  _ so _ sleepy.

“Wha-what?” He manages to ask, barely opening his eyes.

“Wake up, I’m late, you need to leave,  _ bye _ ,” the other man says as he starts getting dressed.

From his angle, Louis can see his entire torso and he almost cries; he can barely believe he slept with someone so beautiful and it was so amazing.

“Good morning to you too…” He says, finally sitting up on the bed they made out of comforters in the middle of the living room.

“Harry.” The man offers, as if he’s just remembered they talked a lot, but never exchanged their names.

“Harry.” Louis repeats. He really likes the way it rolls off his tongue. “I’m Louis,” he stretches out his hand.

Nevermind they had each other’s dicks in their mouths last night and then fucked twice. They shake hands anyways.

“Nice to meet you,”  _ Harry _ laughs again. Sober Louis finds it still every bit as captivating as drunk Louis did last night.

“You too.” He smiles back.

“It’s my first day of work, you really need to leave.” Harry almost sounds apologetic.

_ Harry. Harry. Harry.  _ Louis keeps repeating his name in his mind. It goes so well with his face. 

“Yeah, right, okay.” He snaps out of it. “It was- uh.”  _ Amazing, yes, when can we do this again? _

“A one-night stand, yes.” The other man completes for him, already leading Louis towards the door.

Louis wants to say many things. He wants to tell him it was the best one night stand he’s ever had, probably the best  _ sex _ he’s ever had (and Louis has had some incredible sex). But in the end, Harry opens the door and says “happy new year”.

It throws Louis off, if only a bit.

“Happy new year to you too.” He hopes the smile he gives Harry reaches his eyes. “I hope it’s a good one.” His voice is sincere. Harry accepts it and even looks soft for a bit.

He’s still a mystery, though.

“I wish you the same.” Harry says. And then… “Goodbye, Louis.”

“Good morning, Harry.” Is what he answers. Because he refuses the idea that they won’t ever meet again.

You see, you never know the biggest day of your life is the biggest day. You don’t recognize the biggest day of your life, not until you’re right in the middle of it and are scared shitless that it’ll end. The day you commit to something or someone. The day you realize there’s not enough time because you want to live forever. 

The day you get your heart broken. The day your heart starts to mend again. The day you meet your soulmate. Those are the biggest days, the perfect days.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about their future: Louis and Harry do get married, a couple of years in the future. It isn't very big, and Anne doesn't show up, but everyone that matters is there. They spend their honeymoon in the Arab Emirates. (And then they go to Myanmar. And then Spain. And Italy. And France. They travel together for two months, after accumulating vacation days over the years.) 
> 
> They never have kids, Harry simply refused to put children through the stress that would be having to surgeons for fathers. They do spoil all their godchildren rotten (they have five of them). 
> 
> Harry ends up choosing general surgery, but his mother only finds that out when he wins an award for innovation she was nominated for as well. (Harry is not only kinder as an attending surgeon, he's smarter too.) A little while after that, Louis receives a impossible-to-deny invitation to teach at Harvard (while still practicing medicine, of course), and even though it hurts to leave Seattle, the bittersweet feeling doesn't stop them from moving to Massachusetts and joining the University hospital when the time comes. Them. Yes. Because Harry would follow - will follow - him anywhere. Always. And forever.
> 
> They stay together until the very end, without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what they do or where they go, there's no place like home - and their home is in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been sitting with this fic for almost a year now (or more than a year, not sure), and I've doubted myself A HUNDRED TIMES while writing it, but now that I'm almost done with the story, I kinda love the characters and decided to share them with you.
> 
> I've never really written something this... Technical, I guess? So I apologize beforehand if I fuck it up. The Doctor Talk™ comes from old Grey's Anatomy episodes and the recent show The Good Doctor, since I'm definitely not a doctor. If this isn't your cup of tea, it's fine. There'll be more fics ahead, haha.
> 
> Here goes a HUGE thank you to my friend missdesaster, for never doubting me and saying over and over again that I could do this, "I want you to do this". Also, another major thanks to my amazing beta Jada, who, eventually, fell in love with this story as much as I did.
> 
> See you in one week, when the real plot starts.  
> All the love as always,  
> M.
> 
> <3


End file.
